Lost in transl.. potatoes.

I just came home from the pub tonight, checked my mailbox and read my first ever email written entirely in Irish. Lads, I'm glad to hear from you, but, well ... I understood about 5 words, and tried to guess the meaning of the sentences around them. There's something going on tomorrow at 7:30 (thank goodness you used digits), it involves Colm, Daìrin and Cillian. There'll be a Ceilì soon, probably around St Patrick's day. And there'll be a trip ... somewhere ... some time.
HURRAY.
That's about one fifth of the email. No clue what the rest is about.

And that memory suddenly pops into my mind. I'm six years old, coming home from school for lunch break, but the door is locked. It shouldn't be locked, my mother is supposed to be here, if she weren't, she would have told me before I left for school that I should go to my grandma's or my aunt's at lunchtime.
But she left a note stuck on the door. To 6-year-old me, it read :

Cécile,

word word word word word word, word word word word.
word word word word, word word word word.
word,

Mummy.

And there was a potato cellotaped to the note.
So what do you do when you're 6, go home, find the door shut and a mysterious note with a potato stuck on it? My reaction was to sit on the floor and cry. Until my mother came home and found me there.

"Cécile what are you doing here? You're supposed to have lunch at your grandma's! I wrote it here, on that note! I left home to help your grandpa harvest the potatoes! I even cellotaped a potato for you to understand!"
All in sobs, I said something like "Mummy SOB it's my second week SOB of school SOB all I was able to read SOB was SOB "Cécile" and SOB "Mummy" and SOB I had no clue why you would SOB cellotape a potato to the door!" (explosion of tears)

Seriously, what was I supposed to get from that cellotaped potato?

...

I love my mum.

Comments

[Term Papers]

I have been visiting various blogs for my term paper research. I have found your blog to quite useful. Keep updating your blog with valuable information...Regards