So I asked Broekkies: "Where are all the peoples? You are like a loan wolf on the brown white(ish) Irish beach of lifes with no sheeps to make friends with and thus no wool to make a Jersey with or even some lekker chops to braai with..."
And Broekkies said: "Well you know Brennan, its a very sad state of affairs... I was dreaming of this beech moment wheres I would find for me mos a nice Irishes with dark hair and a pale tan and with deep penetrating eyes. But look at me... here I are on this here mos beach and there is but not a single Irishes... Where are they I ask?"
And I tell Broekkies: "I really dont know where are the Irishes... Maybe they are at homes?"
But Broekkies is not convinced and she look at me with her dark and piercing eye, and it is as if she are staring right down into the very depths of my soul, and although I feel violated by this obvious intrusion into my personal space, it excite me to have someone look so deep down there and then come back and say: "Man but you need to clean your socks..." Which is true because I have not done my washing for at least a month now...
So I tell Broekkies: "Man dont worry... there will be plenty of Irishes waiting to wish you birthday happy tonight at the next campsite..." And this seems to make her happy (and maybe just a little excited!).
But the gods must have been listening for as we where leaving some Irishes arrived and set up shop on the beach on this wonderfully warm and windy day. They may have only been little Irishes in the picture but that is because Broekkies is quite tall and they only look small because of this.
So as we leave Broekkies does not let the opportunity escape her to show me how tall she is! Look just right here how she can lean on the sign that Honey and I have to crawl under...
You know if it where not for the sign that said "height restriction" I am sure Broekkies would have tripped and twisted her ankle on it!
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