But I think the day is mostly about wearing green and eating ♥ Irish soda bread ♥ and wishing you were in Ireland. America celebrates this holiday beautifully. England doesn't have such a loving relationship with the Emerald Isle (centuries of violent oppression will do that, apparently), so I think most English people would rather ignore the day. And they do.
I learned a lesson from an Irish shepherd that I think about a lot. When we took my family to Ireland, we rented a huge nine-passenger van. It was awesome, especially the way my dad drove it like it was a sports car. Yeah. Anyway we wanted to take them to a sort of hidden bay, and there was absolutely nowhere to park our beast on the narrow, single-track roads. We finally settled on a little patch of grass in front of a gate, thinking that since we'd only be a couple hours, and there was no one in sight, we'd be alright.
So of course, when we came back to the car we found two shepherds who had been waiting with their sheep at their gate that some idiot tourists blocked. Oh, we're in trouble! We all thought as we shrank down into our shoulders and approached. But instead they gave us big grins and greeted us like we were the most interesting thing to come along in all their lives. We immediately started apologizing, "we are so sorry! we didn't know etc etc" But the half-toothless shepherd just shook his head and said, "Dooon't bother yourself! All de time in de world."
He wasn't just trying to be nice; he actually wasn't bothered. He really didn't care. When your gate is blocked by a mysterious giant van, you just hang around with your sheep until the gate is no longer blocked. No problem at all.
I want to be able to take roadblocks in stride like that. I want the pace of my life to be like his. And I wouldn't mind having a little cottage on the west coast of Ireland, either.