Blowin' In The Wind Part 3

Luckily the ground was just too water-logged to really let the snow settle and the snow stopped just as it looked like it was going to get fiercer.

We got the bus into Ballybofey. As always, anywhere, there were roadworks and the delicatest of out number lasted all of about five minutes before needing to be let off the bus. He made is excuses and we left him to it. The countryside between Brockagh and Ballybofey was as picturesque as you'd expect, all little valleys and dales with quaint little houses dotted about. The sort of wind and rain swept countryside that justifies a whiskey after walking through it.

Ballybofey is, in essence, the street you can see on the first page of it's website. More bars than you'd think and a couple of bookshops, it's not entirely devoid of character. It takes about five minutes to clump up and down before you reckon you've ssen it all and head for the designated bar. In this case Bonners Corner Bar. Some of the group had decided to go and do a little more shopping. One in particular wanted to buy a tweed suit. That the shop, Murphy's & Co., was a namesake for the buyer was a particular bonus.

About halfway through the Guardian quick crossword the rumours started. I half heard them at first and paid them no mind, but as the group got back to full-size the question was being asked: "Has the game been cancelled?".

It had. Apparently, although it rains all the time in Ireland and the Finn Harps ground is next to the river, the pitch had become unexpectedly waterlogged and the game had been put off for a day. A day we didn't have.

What we did have was Guinness in front of us and a curious inclination to not feel let down by the news. We moved on to Harley's Cheers Bar.

Harley's is the main sponsor for Finn Harps this year (there is a rotational system among the shops and bars in Ballybofey for sponsorship that was explained to me a few Guinnesses too late) and there was a possibility that they had a few replica shirts on offer. They didn't have one that fit me but most of the group was satisfied.

What Harley's did have was a big, gobby lass from Preston with a small party around her of the sort of Prestonians who hang around with big gobby lasses. One of them, seeing the top I was wearing, said something about "dirty Leeds".