~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

		IN THIS ISSUE
~~~ Foreword
~~~ News Snaps from Ireland 
~~~ New free resources at the site
~~~ The Measure of My Dreams  by Cindy Brandner
~~~ John Quinn: The amazing Irish-American
                       by Kathleen Dixon Donnelly
~~~ Power of the Ages        by Stephanie Hoffman
~~~ Golfing in Ireland             by Sean Downes
~~~ Gaelic Phrases of the Month
~~~ Shamrock Site of the Month: celticattic.com
~~~ Monthly free competition result

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FOREWORD
~~~~~~~~

Hello again from Ireland where Winter has hit 
- and hard! It is difficult to believe that 
another Saint Patrick's Day is almost upon us 
- doesn't time fly!

Many thanks to all who have submitted an article 
for inclusion in the newsletter. This month we 
have a wonderful tale from Famine Ireland by 
Cindy Brandner, an exploration of a hitherto 
unknown Irish art benefactor, an endorsement of 
golfing in Ireland, and a poem  - all 
contributed by readers of this newsletter.

We want more!

Until the Saint Patrick's Day edition...

STAY OUT OF THE COLD!

Michael


WE NEED YOUR HELP!

PLEASE - send this newsletter on to your friends 
or relatives who you think are interested in 
Ireland. By doing this you are helping to keep 
us 'free'.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


NEWS SNAPS FROM IRELAND
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ELECTRONIC VOTING TO BE INTRODUCED THIS YEAR

The Government is pressing ahead with the 
roll-out of electronic voting to be used in the 
upcoming local and EU elections in June. Despite 
opposition concerns about the lack of a verifiable 
'paper-trail' should the system fail, Bertie 
Ahearn has insisted that the system is foolproof 
and will make for more accurate tallying of votes.
The new system does not allow any mechanism for 
people to 'spoil' their votes as has been the case 
up to now. Spoiling of votes has long been 
acknowledged as a form of protest by some voters 
but the new system does not allow for any such 
protest. The new system has so far cost 40 
Million Euro to install.

WELFARE RESTRICTIONS TO BE IMPOSED ON IMMIGRANTS

Restrictions on the allocation of welfare 
payments are to be introduced prior to accession 
of 10 countries to the European Union in May. 
There are fears that immigrants from the new EU 
members may travel to Ireland with the sole aim 
of collecting welfare. 

INFLUX OF ASYLUM SEEKERS HALTED IN 2003

Applications for asylum in Europe fell by over 
22% in 2003 but in Ireland the number of 
applications fell by 33% with 8000 applications 
made, of which over 3000 were of Nigerian origin. 
In 1992 there were only 40 applications for 
asylum. By 2002 this figure had increased to 
over 11000. The rate of refusal is estimated at
92%. The UK is the world's most popular 
destination for asylum seekers with over 61,000 
applications in 2003, compared with 60,700 in 
the USA.

IRISH MOTORISTS DRIVE MORE THAN DRIVERS IN US

Car ownership in Ireland grew by a third in the 
ten years up to 2002, reflecting the increased 
prosperity following the economic boom. The poor 
state of the national transport system is being 
addressed with the completion of the M50 
ring-road around Dublin, the Port Tunnel which 
will remove trucks form Dublin City Centre and 
the installation of the Luas light rail system. 
Nevertheless Irish drivers still drive an 
average of nearly 15,000 miles annually. This 
compares with 5,000 miles in Spain, 10,00 in 
Britain and 12,000 miles per annum in the US. 
Urban sprawl has been cited as one of the main 
contributing factors for the high Irish 
driving rate.

GEORGE BUSH TO VISIT IRELAND THIS YEAR

A massive security operation is to be launched 
ahead of the visit of US President George Bush 
later this year. The venue for the summit 
between the EU and US leaders has yet to be 
confirmed but it is expected that the meeting 
will be held outside of Dublin as there is a 
strong likelihood of protests by various groups.

IRISH OBESITY TO BE TACKLED

A recent survey of obesity in children placed 
Ireland as fifth out of fifteen countries. The 
US fared worst in the survey with 15% of girls 
and 14% of boys being diagnosed as clinically 
obese. Only the USA, Greece, Portugal and 
Israel fared worse than Ireland in the Danish 
survey. 5% of Irish boys and 3% of girls are 
now regarded as obese. 13% of the overall 
population is obese and this compares with a 
10% statistic in 1998. Half of the entire 
population of the country are regarded as 
overweight.

The International Obesity Task Force (IOTF) is 
urging Ireland to use its presidency of the EU 
to implement its recommendations to reduce 
obesity levels.

IRELAND TO JOIN THE EUROPEAN SUPER LOTTERY

Irish Draw players could hit a jackpot of up to 
50 Million Euro later this year as Ireland looks 
set to join the EuroMillions super lottery. 
Participants in the new lottery include France, 
Spain and Britain. The addition of Ireland a 
clutch of other countries will bring the 
participating population base up to 200 Million 
people.


Voice your opinion on these news issues here:

https://www.ireland-information.com/cgi-bin/newsletterboardindex.cgi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NEW FREE RESOURCES AT THE SITE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SAINT PATRICKS DAY SCREENSAVERS

Get 2 Saint Patricks Day screensavers absolutely 
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KIDS GAMES

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NEW COATS OF ARMS ADDED TO THE GALLERY:

The following 7 coats of arms images and family
history details have been added to the Gallery:

B: Bolger
C: Canty
G: Graver
H: Hession, Hopkins
M: Martell
P: Perry

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We now have over 100,000 worldwide names available.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


'The Measure of My Dreams'     by Cindy Brandner 

It was the whole breadth of my experience. Fifteen 
square miles of soil and wee cottages. The 
townland, the baile of my youth became the expanse 
of all my years. You will think I was an ignorant 
peasant who knew not how to want more. You will 
smile at my simplicity, spare me a moment's sorrow 
and forget. 

But I tell you, the measure of my dreams was the 
span of a world entire.  

I'd like to tell you my story, but first you must 
understand my landscape. Will you come? Will you 
look through history's kaleidoscope, knowing that 
the passage of time distorts vision and makes the 
dead seem small, even toylike. As though we 
existed in dioramas, the sort found in folk
 museums.

I will not bother with the name of my village, for 
it no longer exists on any map or even as a ripple 
caught in the traces of living memory. Its roots 
are there in overgrown stone foundations and 
depressions in deep grass that were once cart 
tracks and paths made for feet to fly along. 

There were twenty-one homes contained on three 
hundred acres, but that is merely a note for the 
historians. You couldn't see the baile until you 
were almost upon it, it merged with the 
countryside in an organic manner, a small huddle 
that contained a wealth of tangled relations, 
loves, hates- in short all the salt of life. Even 
our memories were scarcely personal, they were 
communal, shared, transformed through the 
tellings and re-tellings.   

But I think, in the beginning at least, I was 
different. I wanted all my thoughts for myself, 
I clutched at memory like straws of salvation. 
The fire that was to ruin me was burning in me 
even then. 

From the day I was born I could hear the grass 
grow in the fields. It was I, after all, who first 
heard the potatoes in their death cries. When 
people spoke I saw the colors their words left 
behind. Some said I was a changeling, child of 
the fairyfolk, but they said it with fondness 
and indulgence. Later they would mutter from the 
corners of sunken mouths that my mother ought to 
have left me on a hillside to die. I cannot 
disagree that, in the end, it might have been 
better for all concerned had my mother done just 
that.  

Can you define the moment that changed your life, 
that put your feet on the path to heaven or to 
hell? I can, though the moment was small and 
consisted only of five words. 

It was the hedgemaster who showed me The Word, 
who stirred the embers in my chest into a 
consuming blaze. It was myself who sacrificed 
all to that fire. How was I, who thought hearts 
were sexless, to know that words were not for 
women? For words sang to me, ran their relentless 
tunes and dirges through me like knives. I was 
cursed with the desire to set them down, to carve 
them with the perfume of ink into the flesh of 
paper. 

But paper was a feast, and ink unheard of. So I 
set my words in soil and rock, cut them into tree 
bones, wrote them with blood let free from my 
wrists and ankles onto rock walls and wooden 
tables. Later I would open those same wrists in 
an effort to stave off death. I think those cuts 
were cursed though, that the fire that burned in 
my blood, poisoned others. 

The Word was contained within a small blue-bound 
book, frayed about the edges. It was the architect 
of my disaster.
			
The hedgemaster was a fine strap of a man, with a 
voice that could draw blood from the wind. Would 
it have mattered had the Word first been spoken 
by an ugly man with grated tin for a voice?  

What words, you ask, could cause the downfall of 
a life barely begun? Five of them, written by a 
tuberculous Englishman. Ironic that it should be 
an English poet that led an Irish girl down the 
road to perdition.

'And her eyes were wild' - Five words and I felt 
a desire that left me without breath. I was 
possessed, obsessed, filled with an unholy need 
for those pages. The man who'd written those words 
knew me, I felt it surely. 

I slept with the hedgemaster for that book. Are 
you shocked? Don't be, for who can measure the 
madness of such a desire? Who can say how these 
passions become twisted when invested in the body 
of a woman?  He'd spoken Keats to me, and unlocked 
the door of my cage, that was all the seduction I 
required. He took me down amongst long grass and 
dusty bluebells up by the old oak where the 
townland couples courted. Behind closed eyes I 
saw the rainbow of the words I would soon possess. 
My terrible greed cost me dear though. For when 
the hedgemaster moved on, he left more behind 
than the Word.  
 				
My son was born under a sickle moon, to a mother 
bewitched by the Word and a father who did not 
share his blood. I married the boy next door so 
as not to bring greater disgrace upon my family 
than was necessary. He was a good man, with a 
broad back and a kind heart. 

I never lied to him, I told him about the Word 
and how it burned within me like a holy flame. 
How to hold it back was to let poison free to 
gnaw my insides. I thought, fool that a young 
girl can be, he understood. Even when I realized 
he did not, I thought I could have my words in 
the dark of night, in the bones of trees, bits 
of soil and spilled blood. 

But God, it seemed, had other plans for me and 
mine.

I remember the night it began. A fog, the color 
of iron, came rolling down over the hills. It 
was a vapor, thick and creeping, pouring itself 
into crevices and hollows. Into the cup of leaf 
and vein of soil. It seemed as though Death had 
breathed out over the land. In the morning there 
was a fine white dust on the potato stalks, 
their hardy necks bending already under the 
lethal touch. 

We didn't understand at first. No one ever 
understands when they are face to face with 
disaster. It had come so quietly after all. On 
hands and knees we scrabbled in the dirt, only 
to find despair. We didn't know that was to be 
the season God abandoned Ireland. He didn't 
show his face again for many a year. He left us 
with four mouths to feed, and no food with which 
to do it. I hated Him, and yet understood the 
impulse to run away from such need. 

I cannot explain the weight of hunger to one that 
has never known more than a moment's growl in the 
belly. Hunger consumes, it eats you alive. It 
crushes you when it is not merely a question of 
where to find your next meal, but a matter of 
knowing there will never be a next meal. 
 
When the British came to burn it down there were 
holes in the thatch of our cottage, for my husband 
no longer had the strength to patch them. The 
soot-soaked rain streamed in brown ribbons upon 
us all, but we no longer had the means to care 
for such small discomforts. 

I know it sounds wretched to you, but I could see 
the stars through those holes. Do you understand? 
I could still see the stars.

The landlord offered us one passage on a ship. 
Redemption for one, damnation for the rest. We 
sent the hedgemaster's son. 

What price redemption? The landlord only wanted 
the Word, some pages with ink you may say, a 
small price to pay for the lives of your family. 
He might as well have asked for my soul. 

Did I give it to him? Of course I did, but after 
I saw my son safe on the road that would take him 
away forever and always, I stole it back. It was 
my soul after all and who can count the cost of 
such a thing? For my sins my husband took the 
blame. My husband died, tied to a flogging pole 
in the village square. Back stripped down to the 
bones. He ended hating me. Do not blame him. How 
was he to know he'd married a woman who contained 
within her the madness of congealed quartos and 
stifled sonnets? 
 							
Our first daughter was carted off to the foundling 
home.  I never did find her, though I tried, 
please understand that I tried. I walked two weeks 
amongst the lice and dirt and small throated cries 
to an absent God, that infested that small corner 
of hell. The flux took my youngest boy while I 
was gone. 

The baby was the last to die. I count upon the 
clicking of my unfleshed fingers how long since 
she departed and find I cannot separate the days, 
they swarm together now in a mass of unending 
misery. I remember how she looked though, like 
an odd fever dream, a translucent angel. Her 
bones laying against folds of blue skin like 
long shafts of pearl. Small mouth rimmed in green 
from the grass I'd fed her. 

From my son there is no word. I pretend not to 
know his fate. I write long fanciful letters in 
my head from him. I imagine him drinking milk and 
honey, walking on streets paved with gold, in a 
new world.

And so here tonight under a sharp-faced moon, I 
remain. 

I do not know why I cannot die. The cuts from 
which I nursed my children on blood do not heal 
well anymore. I pray to a God I no longer believe 
in that I'll take infection and die. I pray for 
the fever to come for me. I have not been so lucky 
as others for I am still alive. Perhaps I am cursed 
to walk this earth forever, cursed to live when the 
very grass in the fields withers black with sorrow.

Do not look for me in the history books, you will 
not find me, there I will merely be one of an 
impossible number. Don't search amongst the 
rollcall of poets. Unlike Keats all my words were 
writ in water. I will tell you where to find me. 

Follow me up the hill, the one that stretched its 
toes down to the edge of the townland. Up through 
the long grass to the twisted oak, where couples 
once courted and young girls lost their innocence 
amongst long grass and dusty bluebells.

Dig beside the stone that looks like a folded 
child. A foot down it's waiting for you to find, 
shrouded in the homespun I took from my husband's 
back, before they tied him to the post. 

Has it survived the years well? Is it moldy? Have 
the dead poet's words bled across the pages, can 
you smell the copper tang of the blood of those 
who died for it? Handle it carefully as you turn 
the pages, give it some small respect before you 
move on. For it is all the measure of my dreams. 

Fifteen square miles, the span of a world entire.  

By Cindy Brandner
Author 'Exit Unicorns'
Available at www.amazon.com or www.amazon.ca

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YOU CAN HELP TO KEEP THIS FREE NEWSLETTER ALIVE!

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where you can get great Irish gifts, prints, 
claddagh jewellery, engraved glassware and 
much more.

Timothy Meade got some family crest watches as 
gifts for his wedding groomsmen:

 Michael,

 The watches are amazing.  They arrived at just the 
 right time.  I really appreciate that you didn't 
 bill me for the extra shipping. It warms the 
 cockles of me heart.

 Thanks for making my wedding day just that much 
 more beautiful.

 Tim

See here for family crest gifts:
Visit https://www.irishnation.com/familycrestgifts.htm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


JOHN QUINN:  THE AMAZING IRISH-AMERICAN
                       by Kathleen Dixon Donnelly

I want to tell you about an amazing man.

While doing my academic research on early 20th 
century writers, an interesting fringe character 
kept popping up. Like Woody Allen's Zelig he 
appeared in biographies, letters and group photos 
with Matisse, Picasso, Ezra Pound, James Joyce.

Who was this guy?

Recently I researched the 1913 New York Armory 
Show for my book about the writers, Such Friends. 
There was John Quinn again, buying art in Paris, 
organizing the first exhibition of international 
modern art in America, writing to Joseph Conrad 
and other struggling writers.

Curious, I read B. L. Reid's 'The Man from New 
York: John Quinn & His Friends' and discovered it 
is really awful—poorly written, badly organized. 
Worst of all, it makes this fascinating man 
boring.

Here is the Quinn I discovered:
Born in 1870, he was the son of an Irish immigrant 
baker. He grew up in middle-class Fostoria, OH, 
and attended the University of Michigan. When a 
family friend was appointed US Treasury Secretary, 
Quinn went to work for him in Washington. Holding 
down a full-time government job, he attended 
Georgetown University law school at night.

After earning an advanced degree in international 
relations from Harvard (not bad for a shanty-Irish 
baker's son), Quinn moved to New York City, his 
home for the rest of his life. He predictably 
worked on high-profile corporate cases for a large 
firm. Just after 1900, his mother and two sisters 
died within a few months of each other. He began 
to explore his Irish roots. On his first trip to 
Ireland, at a Galway feis, he met Lady Gregory and 
other friends of Yeats. While helping this group 
establish the Abbey Theatre, he started his own 
New York law firm in 1906.

His practice was supported by lucrative corporate 
retainers, and he became associated with Tammany 
Hall. When his candidate didn't get the 1912 
Democratic Party nomination, he became disgusted 
with politics. He turned his energies to the arts.
During the first decades of the 20th century Quinn 
managed to help organize the Armory Show. He fought 
to eliminate tariffs on contemporary art. He to 
bailed out the Abbey players. He was arrested for 
performing The Playboy of the Western World in 
Philadelphia. He had many affairs, including one 
with Lady Gregory. He supported Yeats' father in 
New York by buying his paintings and supported 
Joyce in Paris by buying his manuscripts. He 
argued the original obscenity case against 
the banning of Ulysses excerpts. He carried on 
detailed correspondences with most of the cultural 
luminaries of the time and amassed an incredible 
collection of modern art. 

All before his death from cancer at the age of 54.

The only other book about him is a catalogue from 
the Hirshorn Museum's memorial exhibit in 1978. 
The most fascinating tidbits are found in the 
footnotes. Quinn's 'assistant', 'companion' and 
'devoted friend' was Mrs. Jeanne Robert Foster, 
who, for the last six years of his life helped him 
on his European collecting trips, while remaining 
married to the wealthy Matlock Foster. 

After his death, his art collection of 2000 pieces
was sold off among museums and collectors. His 
voluminous correspondence was donated to the New 
York Public Library, including the manuscript of 
T. S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland'.

When I gave my presentation about the Armory Show 
to the group of art collectors, I tried to 
communicate to them Quinn's enthusiasm for 
supporting artists as well as art.

Eventually I would like to give him the decent 
biography he deserves.

Kathleen Dixon Donnelly

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POWER OF THE AGES            by Stephanie Hoffman

Blood in my veins
Beats to an ancient Irish drum
Primal music of the Celts
A lust for life
A will to fight
A heart to love
These I have inherited from ghosts
Mere whispers in the darkness?
Blurry visions in slumber?
  No
They emerge from the past in 
Every part of me
Living through my thoughts
Speech and actions
Reminding me of what once was
Celtic ghosts of old run forever 
Within me and my children
As I am forever in them

Stephanie Hoffman 
USA

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YOU CAN HELP TO KEEP THIS FREE NEWSLETTER ALIVE!

Visit https://www.irishnation.com

where you can get great Irish gifts, prints, 
claddagh jewellery, engraved glassware and 
much more.

Anne MacDonald ordered a family crest plaque:

 Hello, Michael,

 Received my plaque, carefully wrapped, 
 in good order.  It is splendid!  I am 
 thrilled, and I know that my dad, for whose 
 81st birthday this was ordered, will love 
 it.  I would like to order another one! 

 Everyone who has seen the plaque has been 
 really impressed, even those who, as my 
 daughter says are 'not into ancestor 
 worship!'

 Again, my hearty thanks for this 
 first-class product.

 Best wishes for happy holiday season.

 Sincerely, Anne MacDonald

View family crest plaques here:
https://www.irishnation.com/familycrestplaques.htm


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GOLFING IN IRELAND                 by Sean Downes

If you are itching to hit the little white ball 
around somewhere new this year, then take yourself 
to the home of golf and leprechauns. Rolling green 
hills, ocean views, and beautiful scenery are only 
a plane ride away. Did I mention the fresh 
Guinness? Ireland is easily accessible from most 
major cities on the east coast of the US. Golf 
packages can be put together for you by a 
reputable travel agent. Golfing in Ireland is a 
must for all avid golfers. If golf is one of your 
passions, go to Ireland and play the best courses 
in the world while experiencing beautiful scenery 
and an amazing culture.

Ireland's golf courses are consistently ranked 
among the top courses in the world year after 
year. Courses such as Old Head, Lahinch, Connemara, 
to name a few, have all won the course of the year 
award within the last decade. Golf courses in 
Ireland are traditional courses or Links courses. 
These courses are known for their wide open 
fairways and those tough, almost impossible to hit 
out of, pot hole bunkers. While playing a round, 
you have your choice of a motorized buggy or a 
caddie to carry your clubs. Be sure to bring plenty 
of balls with you because the rough next to the 
fairways is sometimes two feet deep. Most courses 
have very fast greens due to the strong winds that 
blow off the ocean. If a challenge is what you're 
after and you love playing the best the Ireland 
is for you.

When your round of golf is over, you will have the 
ability to see the most beautiful landscape a 
country has to offer. Why not take a walk down by 
the ocean. Go hiking up a mountain to a 16th 
century castle. Or look for a rainbow and find the 
pot of gold that is waiting for you. Ireland has 
so many different activities for the young and the 
old. You can go to the mountain country and go 
horseback riding through the fields down to the 
beach. Or try your luck at salmon fishing in the 
west. A golf trip to Ireland let's one experience 
one of the most unique, rugged and absolutely 
beautiful places on earth.

My personal favorite part of an Ireland golf trip 
is interacting with the people of this great 
country and experiencing all of its great 
traditions. The first thing you realize about 
Ireland is that most everything revolves around 
public houses or pubs. People meet in pubs to 
discuss everything from business deals to recipes. 
The pub is the heart of most small towns. If you 
want to hear some of the latest gossip, go to the 
pub. If you are interested in hearing some of the 
best musicians anywhere, go to the pub. By the 
way, did I mention the Guinness? The Irish are 
great story tellers and after a few pints, will 
gladly sing you a song or two. Religion in Ireland 
is very important as well and touring through some 
of the old churches is a must. Experiencing 
Ireland's traditions alone makes for a great 
vacation and will keep you coming back for more.

Golfing in Ireland is truly a must for all 
aficionados of the game. Magnificent courses are 
located throughout this golfer's paradise. Ireland 
was rated the number one golf destination five of 
the last seven years. Experiencing the vast 
topography of this country is a trip of a lifetime 
in itself. Spending an afternoon in the village pub 
talking to the natives is priceless, not only for 
their wit and charm but for the pub's libations as 
well. After experiencing all of the wonderful 
things this country has to offer it its easy to 
see why it is the premier golf vacation 
destination in the world.

Sean Downes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can help to keep this FREE newsletter alive!

Visit https://www.irishnation.com

where you can get great Irish gifts, prints, 
claddagh jewellery, engraved glassware and 
much more.

Claire Latevola ordered an engraved ring:

 Dear Michael,

 I did want to let you know the watch I ordered 
 for my Sister's birthday, with the Nugent crest,
 was lovely.  

 She received it in short order and was delighted.  
 I recently saw it and was very happy with it.  
 Sometimes you feel you are taking a chance placing 
 such an order, but I would not hesitate to place an 
 order again thru your system.

 Again, thank you.

 Claire Latevola

Get your Family Crest ring here:
 https://www.irishnation.com/familycrestrings.htm

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GAELIC PHRASES OF THE MONTH
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PHRASE:		Aibrean/Bealtaine/Meitheamh
PRONOUNCED:	ibb-ronn/be-owll-tinnih/meh-ivh
MEANING:		April/May/June

PHRASE:		Deardaoin/De haoine/Sathairn/De Domhnaigh
PRONOUNCED:	dare-deen/day-heena/day-dow-nig
MEANING:		Thursday/Friday/Saturday/Sunday

PHRASE:		Ceathair/Cuig/Se
PRONOUNCED:	cah-irr/coo-igg/shay
MEANING:		Four/Five/Six

View the archive of phrases here:

https://www.ireland-information.com/irishphrases.htm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


SHAMROCK SITE OF THE MONTH:	CELTICATTIC.COM

Shop online for everything you need to decorate 
your home and life with a Celtic Twist: Art, 
Crafts, Irish & Scottish Baskets, Suncatchers,
Wind-Chimes, Music and Celtic Gifts. We offer a 
delightful variety of Celtic Jewelry: Pendants, 
Crosses, Rings, Hair Ties & more. All your 
Irish Bath, Beauty and Herbal needs are in one 
convenient location! The Majority of our products 
are Irish, Scottish, Welsh made.

http://www.celticattic.com

Phone orders 360-765-0186
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FEBRUARY COMPETITION RESULT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The winner was: dfowler@crosscountybank.com
who will receive the following: 

A Single Family Crest Print (decorative) 
(US$19.99 value)

Send us an email to claim your prize, and well 
done! Remember that all subscribers to this 
newsletter are automatically entered into the 
competition every time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope that you have enjoyed this issue.

Until next time,

ROLL ON SPRING!

Michael Green,
Editor,
The Information about Ireland Site.

https://www.ireland-information.com
Click here to contact us