Whet's tis tennis yer playen' ?

I got invited to an expat Hurling tournament in Brussels this weekend. Now... can I just say one thing? What the ...?!?! MENTAL! The lot of 'em! I mean, seriously... the Irish national sport is hacking away at each other with wooden sticks?!? (That explains a lot about you btw, Marie!)


Don't get me wrong. Hurling is an absolute thrill to watch. And even I found myself shouting at the sidelines for our team to kick the opponents' heads in. But who on earth choses to PLAY this game? Call me primitive, but when someone comes charging straight at me with a stick, my genetic predisposition instinctively urges me to run the other way. FAST!

Mind boggling.

I also had one of the strangest conversations ever. My friend introduced me to a bunch of British and Irish expats, and when I asked them the -to me- puzzling question: "Why on earth would you chose to move to Belgium?" They all replied: "Why on earth would u chose to move to Britain?"

... stalemate.