Happy tiddley-pom day

It’s tiddley-pom day today! Begorra begosh, it’s the day the Irish and the rest of the UK celebrate Paddy himself – Saint Patrick!
In England Saint George is pretty well ignored despite his heroic slaying of the dragon. The Welsh have a saint too, but for the life of me I can’t remember who he is. But on Saint Patrick’s day the British party party party!

Yesterday I visited my friend’s pub The Five Ashes Inn. Preparations for today’s festivities were well under way with inflatable Guinness glasses hanging from the ceiling and bright green bunting draped around the walls. A dray delivered tubs and tubs of the black stuff in readiness for today’s half price Guinness promotion.
Today there will only be one dish on the menu. Irish stew. Landlady Chris started cooking a vast cauldron of the stuff a couple of days ago and it’s just about ready.
Unfortunately I won’t be joining in the celebrations due to work commitments, but Rosey will be there keeping everyone amused!
As I was leaving yesterday afternoon Chris presented me with a little container of Irish stew so I can at least have a taste of Paddy’s day tonight.
As usual I jumped on the bus outside the pub for my journey home. I think I’ve mentioned before that I am prone to bouts of tiredness when on the bus. I have been known to pass my stop completely, but yesterday I managed to keep more or less awake. I got off at the right stop and all was well until I realised I’d left my little pot of Irish stew on the seat on the bus which was now disappearing off into the sunset.
Nothing else for it! Dash home and get my car!
I drove as quickly as I dare and after five miles or so I saw the bus ahead of me. A couple of miles later I managed to pass it. I carried on towards the buses final destination where I managed to find a parking space, then I rushed down to the bus terminus.
Unfortunately, just as I rounded the bend I saw the bus trundling off into the distance!
A somewhat disinterested official shrugged his shoulders and told me the bus and my stew were off to the garage for the night, some three miles away.
So, back to the car, searched around for some change for the parking machine then sped off towards bus garage. When I arrived, there were about twenty almost identical buses lined up! I explained my predicament to a guy in a blue uniform who pointed me in the direction of my number 52 and allowed me on board to search for my stew!
Bingo! I found it exactly where I left it, still warm and smelling delicious.
So, in a few hours time I’ll tuck into it along with some Irish soda bread and glass of Guinness or three!
Anyway, Ronan was tooling along the road one fine day when the local policeman, a friend of his, pulled him over.
"What's wrong, Seamus?" Ronan asked.
"Well didn't ya know Ronan, that your wife fell out of the car about five miles back?" said Seamus.
"Ah, praise the Almighty!" he replied with relief. "I thought I'd gone deaf!"