The PR Blog

What is the luck of the Irish?  Many people think it is a good thing to have. I asked one of our commenters ( Paddy ) what it meant and he said to me " Well, my old Gran used to say that if it was raining soup, we'd be carrying forks. "

Imagine a world where the forecast predicts a downpour of steaming soup instead of rain. While most people would be scrambling for umbrellas or ducking for cover, the Irish would be out in the streets, forks in hand, grinning like they've just discovered a new national pastime.But joking aside... 

The Irish have been renowned for their gift of seeing the funny side of life during times of adversity. They have borne the brunt of many a joke at their expense and seem to take it in their stride. Something that gays, lesbians, transgenders and left wing activists have not been able to do. 

In fact, being offended is almost a badge of courage these days. It is the catch cry of so many and the art form of being offended has been crafted into a political statement. 

The Irish have long been celebrated for their uncanny ability to turn life’s hardships into laughter. Centuries of navigating adversity,  from historical struggles to everyday challenges - have given rise to a rich tradition of witty storytelling and self-deprecating humour. This knack for finding levity in the darkest of times isn't just a coping mechanism; it's woven into the fabric of Irish identity, celebrated in literature, music, and even casual conversation. In essence, the Irish approach to adversity is a masterclass in resilience, proving that sometimes the best way to face a storm is to dance in the rain, with a joke and a smile.

So what has happened? 

In history, certain dates carry weighty significance, their very mention evoking a sense of foreboding or consequence. Among these, the Ides of March stands as a reminder of the impulsive and unpredictable nature of fate and the tumultuous currents of human affairs.

Originating from ancient Roman traditions, the Ides marked the midpoint of the month in the Roman calendar, typically falling on the 15th day of March, May, July, and October, and the 13th day of other months. However, it is the Ides of March, particularly in the year 44 BC, that has become immortalised for its association with betrayal and political upheaval.

The most enduring event tied to the Ides of March is the assassination of Julius Caesar, one of the most influential figures in Roman history. On that fateful day, Caesar, entered the Theatre of Pompey, unaware of the conspiracy brewing against him. As he took his seat, a group of senators, led by Brutus and Cassius, struck him down, plunging Rome into chaos and altering the course of history.

But what led to this momentous day in history?

In these dark days of misery in many parts of the globe, it is often pleasant to hear a story that has a happy ending. For me, such an event came to pass some time ago.  No, I did not win the lottery.

In fact, it would have been strange had I done so as I never take a ticket. No, my happy ending came because a lovely lady, very close to me and my family won a battle by following the wisdom of Sun Tzu. 

Sun Tzu was a Chinese military strategist, philosopher, and author of "The Art of War," an influential work on military strategy and tactics. Little is known about his life, and even the exact dates of his birth and death are uncertain, though he is believed to have lived during the Eastern Zhou period of ancient China, around the 6th century BC.

He wrote a book called " The Art of War. " 

I want to tell you a tale about stout. As St Patricks Day approaches again, I cannot help but think back. There’s a moment, when I'm sitting under the wide Australian sky, that an old Paddy finds his mind drift homeward.

The sun beats down, the land stretches endless and dry, yet here on the coast it is green and wet,  but in my heart, I can still hear the rain pattering against the old stone walls of home. It’s in those moments that I remember the simple things - the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of the soup, and the sight of my Gran, sitting by the fire, sipping her nightly glass of stout. “Good for the blood,” she’d say with a knowing nod, as if the deep, dark drink carried the very essence of Ireland itself. And maybe it does. Because wherever you find a pint of Guinness, you find a bit of home.

So here is my story about Guinness. And it might not be the record book, but it has its own fair share of record breaking stuff.