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17 March 2021
If there were such a thing as a benign super spreader event, St. Patrick's Day would be it. Today we are all Irish but tomorrow most of us will get over it. How nice is that?
A year ago, Patrick Doyle visited his former co-worker Joyce at her place of employment to spread the joy of the day with a gift of some shamrock printed dish towels. Then the lockdown happened. She kept going in to work until she was laid off.
When he and Joyce worked for the same company, which they did for many years, he would throw a party on St. Patrick's Day. And that party would often involve him cooking, most memorably an indoor barbecue with a rooftop vent open in the warehouse for ventilation.
Ingenious man.
This year, not a peep from Mr. Doyle (yet), who we hope is peeking impatiently at his corned beef and cabbage simmering on the stove.
We are not fond of dishes that require simmering 50 minutes per pound. And the attraction of soda bread has always eluded us. But we are not above the occasional ice cold beer or even a frothy Guinness.
We make the point in case our neighbor, whose public decorations we have put on display here, is inclined to invite us over for the latter.
We would wear a green face mask, of course.