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This image depicts a scene in the first chapter of my upcoming *debut historical fiction novel. Below-Here’s a photo and story of our greeting from Tony McGann, 2001. Six of us pulled into the pub’s parking lot on a Wednesday eve, just as the sun set over the sea. Tony, the owner, came out to meet us. He asked how we found his pub and we showed him the article written about him in a travel book. He borrowed a pair of our glasses, slipped them on, and was stunned to read about himself.


Inside the pub were two or three customers, a barkeeper and one server. Our family group chatted about our plans, and how we wished we could remain in Doolin and explore. We ordered fresh fish chowder—the absolute BEST I’ve ever eaten, but my tongue went numb. I asked if there were scallops in it, (allergy) and sure enough there were. My heart dropped that I would miss out, it was so delicious!

The server returned and said Tony would make my own bowl without scallops, if I’d wait for it. You bet!

By this time, a band played cheerful tunes, and the pub was filled to the brim with customers—they smiled and nodded, when we glanced at them. Our poor server was run off her feet! When Tony brought me my customized bowl of fish chowder, I asked him where all the people came from. There weren’t many homes or buildings, and Doolin had one main street.

“Darlin’,” Tony grinned, “word got out we had Americans visitin’ us. No one wants to miss out on catchin’ a glimpse of ya. We love Americans.”

🙂 And we love the Irish.

*The debut novel I’m writing starts in Ireland circa 1860s. The story is based upon my quirky relatives—from my great grandfather as he emigrated from County Kerry with his siblings, to my grandfather, born here in the USA.


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