it's a long way to tipperary

“Dont’t worry, you don't have to pay for it. Things like that happen.”
“What?” I shouted? "I almost slit my throat, could be dead by now and you dare telling me? You are just a lucky man that I am not going to sue you."
Mr Gillycuddy lead me to the three-bedroom-suite. “You can stay here. For tonight.”
I had found this B&B-place in College Road, not far from the centre of Galway.
I had arrived late and wanted to take a shower. But I could not open its door. I tried hard. Moved the door to and fro – nothing.
So I took out this thin glass bar on the right, leaned it carefully against the wall. But still – the shower did not want me inside it. I put back the glass again. Suddenly it opened. Like magic.
I had a shower and went to bed.
In the morning, about to have a shower, I opened the glass door and – a loud clanging, and the glass, in small pieces all over me like pouring rain. I was shocked. After a while I got my senses back, put on the pyjamas and ran down to Mr Gillycuddy.
I did not mention my experiments with the loose glass bar.
Instead - I tried to make him feel guilty.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay for it. Things like that happen.”
“Mister, I am still in shock.”
He went on.
“So you are from Austria. Jörg Haider, eh? Strong man, good man”, he said while jumping around and singing 'It's a long way to Tipperary'.
“I am not discussing politcs with at the breakfast table, and definitely not commenting on Jörg Haider. He is a *****."
“You know”, he said, “I like Sinn Fein. I like strong men. I am a strong man.
"I am not discussing politics in the morning.”
He laughed.
“Take photo, sir?”, asked the Japanese next to me. “My English no good”, he apologized.
Mr Gillycuddy jumped around in the kitchen, the Japanese held knife and fork up as if they were a trophy.
“Don’t worry about the door to the shower. Things like that happen."
“I don’t worry at all. You better worry!”, I answered.
“Have some sausages and bacon, lady”, he said. “No, thank you. Just cereal and yoghurt.”
The Japanese handed me a fresh towel. “Sorry", the landlord said and put two napkins on the table.
“Too late. I have already got Japanese one. Have you got some tea?” I asked.
“Take my”, the Japanese said. Green tea. Good tea. From Japan.”
“Listen Miss Austria”, Mr Gillycuddy continued. “No vacancies this night. Are you easy- going?” “Hm, what do you mean?”
“If you are easy- going, I can find some space for you. You can sleep in the living room on the sofa.” For twenty Euro only. Or you could sleep in the hall. Could easily put up a mattress on the floor for you. Would be fifteen Euro."
“I am easy- going, sort of”, I replied. “But not that easy- going.”
"Aww, he said. Too bad. I like your company.”
"How much would it be if I slept on the garden bench?”
"Funny lady, Miss Austria. Jörg Haider, good man”, he repeated. And started singing again.
He asked the Japanese laughing, "Mister Hung Chung, have some sausages and black pudding.
”Mr Hung Chung looked scared.
"Lucky man, you do not understand Mr Gillycuddy", I thought.
“No, thank you. More photo, please, sir”.
"Click" it went.
And "click" again and again.
There were a lot of clicks.
Mr Hung Chung and me with teacup in hand.
Me Hung Chung and me with napkins in hand.
Mr Hung Chung and me with toast in hand.
Mr Hung Chung and me with fork and knife in hand.
Mr Gillycuddy and me smiling.
Mr Gillycuddy and me smiling again.
Mr Gillycuddy and me still smiling.
Mr Gillycuddy smiling and me not smiling anymore.
Too bad, that I forgot to give the Japanese man my email-address.
So no photos with Mr Hung Chung and me and no photos with Mr Gillycuddy smiling and me smiling and me not smiling anymore.
So there is only one photo of Mr Gillycuddy’s entrance door.
Nice door, isn't it?