

“alright, conas atá tú?”
“táim go maith, go raibh maith agat.” so far, so good.“cén aois thú?”
“eh bien madame, j’ai…no. wait, I can do this. feck. eh, táim ocht mbliana déag d’aois. yes! haha, brilliant - oh right, more questions.”
“cad é d’uimhir scrúdaithe?”
“mon numéro examen, c’est le…balls. tá brón orm…” it could have gone a bit better.
oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh no.
this Irish oral tomorrow counts for forty frigging percent (like the alliteration, eh?) and if I fuck it up - BAM goes my A, gan dabht ar bith. oh dear jaysus, where the hell is the rescue remedy? or the heat? it feels like everything’s gone past freezing point and I’m just sat here, frozen, inwardly panicking. holy shit.
I am doing a project for my Modern Celtic cultures course and I would love to include some first hand observations from you lovely people

As an intellectual counterpoint to the previous post. “A country without a language, a country without a soul”.
éirígí again, this time quoting Pádraig Pearse.
(via jethroq)
(Source: mjhannan)
Ní shalaíonn an t-éan a nead fhéin
- You don’t shit on your own doorstep