As the disappointingly unmacho South African toddled off after giving us a lecture about hedgehogs, I declared the contest over. ‘You win,’ I told the builder boyfriend. We have been having a competition all week to see who can find the most incongruous leftie.
The liberals flock to West Cork from all over the world to get away from whatever it is they can’t cope with, and then stick out like sore thumbs in the farming landscape, totally at odds with the earthiness of the Irish.
The builder boyfriend had been working in the yard when this particular fellow walked by our gate dressed in full safari outfit, as though trekking up Kilimanjaro, with a golden retriever on an extender lead.
The dog lunged at our youngest spaniel Dave, who was sitting quietly in his own yard minding his own business.
Anyone with a big dog on a long lead is going to be a pain in the proverbial. Someone additionally wearing trekking gear to go for a dog walk, well, you’ve got yourself a prize numpty there. But the builder b, ever friendly, grabbed hold of Dave and said ‘Hi’ to the man, who stopped for a chat.
The first I knew about the BB inviting this man in was when I came out of my kitchen door with a watering can to see the two of them walking around the gardens. As I emerged, the man greeted me by announcing: ‘It’s no good. You’re wasting your time.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ I said, as his dog ran and hurled himself at me so I had to flap the dog away as the lead went on and on.
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