The Irish

One of the things I have come to really love about London is that there are so many different cultures all around you. Walking down the street on any given day you will more than likely hear several different languages. You will also hear many different accents, and one of my favourites is the Irish. I'm not sure if it is because my sister lived in Ireland and I was able to visit her there, and fell in love with their willingness to help and their sing-song lilt that came along with it. But something about the way they speak makes me smile.

I was on the bus the other day taking a different route to the hospital where Jake was born for a check-up, when the Irish man sitting next to me struck up a conversation. He was down in Kilburn (where we live) to go to 'Corrigans' (note the rolling R's) to get his 'Irish bacon' which he claims is the best he can find in London. After discovering where I was going, he exclaimed, 'Well, you're on the wrong bus, luv!' and proceeded to figure out the best way for me to correct my error. I explained I was taking a different route so I wouldn't have to change buses, but he was adamant in the nicest way possible that I had indeed made a mistake, and at the last stop I would have to walk at least 20 minutes. This concerned him, as he didn't want me to be late for my appointment. He also involved the 2 closest passengers to us in the conversation in order to 'help' me get to the hospital the quickest way possible. He almost changed his own route home to make sure I was able to find my way:) In the end, I did make it (on time) and got off at the correct stop which was only one block away, but I sure enjoyed his effort when most Londoners choose to blissfully ignore one another.