I get a report from HubSpot ( www.hubspot.com/) every day on how people discover my blog and driftwood art site (www.driftwoodartdesigns.com) and what key words directed them to find the sites. Last week I got this one along with about 50 others.
As an aside, that is why I write nasty things about the FBI so much … hoping that big brother is monitoring me and they come a callin. Well this one caught my eye.
|Greater Manchester Police MANCHESTER ENGLAND UNITED KINGDOM||
|alan deering At 3:03AM|
After getting my report I had to ask Alan what he might be up to in Manchester England. Alan plays rugby, has gone to the Leopardstown races with us, is a big sports fan in general… and as some of you may know, there is a soccer “football” team located in Manchester. He claims that it is not him and denies any wrong doing of late… and why should I doubt him when he tells stories like the following.
Alan … after a few beverages …tells of one of his adventures of coming of age. I wrote about him three years ago and the above reminded me of the “tractor” story and if you missed it …well here it comes again. The Deerings live in Hacketstown, Ireland which is about 30 miles from Courtown. Alan and his mates had made plans to attend a dance and Alan was told he could use the family car. Plans change and when Saturday night came Alan’s parents took the car. Panic set in. Alan had committed to pick the lads up along the way and now he had no transportation. What to do? What to do?
Alan put on his Sunday best, shinned his shoes and then went to the barn and started up the old tractor. Along the way picked up his two friends, who, to put it mildly, were a bit shocked. Off they go to the dance and Courtown. Normally that drive in a car on the back roads takes about half an hour, in a tractor over an hour. Ah but where to park the tractor? They certainly did not want any of the lovelies to find out they were driving a tractor, so they parked it some distance from the dance hall. Needless to say a good time was had by the lads. Phone numbers were gotten and promises were made. Could have been more but Alan’s didn’t share those details. Fair enough for this trip.
It is understandable that a few pints were consumed during the evening and it was now about two in the morning. Time to make the trek home. They were about twenty miles out when they were stopped by the Garda. “Now what would you be doing dressed up like this driving a tractor on the back roads at three in the morning?” he asked.
“One of O’Connors cows went missing and we thought we would help the poor chap out by rounding her up.” One said.
“Good lads” the Garda says…”there ya go now off with ya.”
The Irish have a clever and quick response to most anything asked of them…
I have taken some liberties with Alan’s story … not sure if it was sheep or cows…picked cows because of the picture.