Remembering that once in the past millennium when discovering all counties of Ireland [causing anyone's reflexes here?], during the first three weeks - probably due to my face being tanned by the Welsh sun - I got asked whether I were French or Italian; that after four weeks, though, people seemingly thought 'Well, neither he's English, Irish nor American, but perhaps Australian?; remembering that after three months I got asked which part of Ireland I was coming from, and that on the very last day when - just to say goodbye - entering a tea-house in Laragh where several times I had enjoyed tea & scones & good talks, the landlord just turned round and said 'Another two weeks, and you're a fucking Paddy, yourself', I think it's time to reveal ...