Walking on the Big Pool in the Bogmeadows December 28th 09 BLIAIN ÚR FAOI MHAISE DAOIBH. The water in the big pool at the Bog Meadows was frozen. So was Your Man. So was I. We watched seagulls kiting down over the MI. They dipped over the big pool and wheeled around gliding down to the water. Or the ice. It was Saint Stephen's Day. ‘Yeeehaa’ Your Man chortled. ‘Luk at that’. Instead of gracefully alighting into the pool the gulls skidded along the icy surface, slipping and sliding into each other. ‘Slip sliding away, slip sliding away’ Your Man hummed. ‘I wonder what they think of the ice?’ ‘They thinks its cold’ I replied, ‘and slippy’. ‘I know that’ he said as we made our way away from the waters edge and up towards Saint Galls. ‘But they wud nivver have any experience of ice. Wud they?’ ‘Unless they came from the Arctic’ I offered. ‘That’s a quare distance’ he mused. ‘Swallows go to South Africa’. I continued. ‘So does big Mick and wee Seamie’. ‘On a plane’ I parried, ‘Swallo...