My sorry tale begins in Ireland’s fair capital, in the height of "summer". The month was July. The year...2011. The mood? Sombre. Thousands of years of rain may have dampened our brogues, our spirits and our Aran sweaters but it has not dampened our resolve. We seem determined to be staggered by this continuing precipitation...Can you believe this rain??

Nor has the recession improved conditions. Despite countless governmental cock ups Ireland cannot believe its bank balance. Due to a complete lack of foresight the Irish are now broke and wet. To stave off the wet weather and save money, some communities are umbrella pooling and others are renting out their hot presses to the damp and down on their luck. 

I am one of the more fortunate. I do not have to umbrella pool, or sublet my hot press. I do however have to country share with every other miserable git on this god forsaken island.                             And make no mistake...he has forsaken us.