Happy Saint-Patrick's Day!

Luck of the Irishman to you all, today and every day. We have started celebrating in this household, albeit modestly: little Wolfie, my wife and I are all dressed in Greek. Well, "all" might be a bit of an exaggeration. My wife hates green on clothes, so she merely decided to wear some socks with shamrock on them. A present from her grandmother when she got back from a holiday in Ireland. The shamrocks only have four cloves, it's old and worn out, but all the same, these socks look uber coo. Our family have some bonds with Ireland: both my wife and I have some Irish blood from our mother's side (albeit in my case my mother's ancestors were Ulster Scots), the wife of my wife's brother is Irish and thus our niece is half Irish and recently decided to claim her Irish citizenship. I try not to push it too hard as I don't want to come off as a plastic Paddy, but on Saint-Patrick's Day, I feel more strongly the kinship I have with Ireland and its people. So does Wolfie, apparently: he really enjoyed the Irish music I played for him earlier.