There is nothing like the lovely scent of burning turf to remind you that you are in Ireland. As I stepped in from the bitter cold I felt the warmth of the stone fireplace and the kind souls gathered around.
After getting my pint I took a seat in one of the large worn leather chairs. I could feel my body warm and relax as I settled in. Just then, a dear gentleman approached the fire and put his glass on the hearth. "I'm not English", he whispered to me. "It's the warm glass that feels good on my cold hands".
