As an emigrant in the mid-fifties, I had little option but to cross the water. I could of course have stayed and worked for a pittance for the tight fisted farmers around where I used to live. I however had no wish to continued picking potatoes from frozen soil and pulling sugar beet. Now there's a bastard plant if ever there was one. The leaves are like containers which after each shower of sleety rain hold about a half gallon of water. Try pulling a few and remaining dry. Impossible. I have no particular wish to return to Ireland to live but on the other hand if I ever win the lottery ----