Irish Gypsy Clan Wars

Years ago, I remember Chris, Neil and Sascha telling me about how they ended up in the middle of a gypsy clan war when they were hitching through Ireland. As I recall the story -- and please correct me if my memory is tricking me -- but they were in a pub and, as if on cue, everyone else in the pub had started pounding on each other. So they grabbed their pints and snuck out through the kitchen. When they got onto the street they found that fights were spilling out of all of the pubs in sight. Vendors in the market square were prepared and were already defending their stalls against any stray ruffians who might think to add vandalism to the mayhem. One of these vendors informed them that it was a gypsy clan war.

Now, in the present day, one of my new colleagues is also my next-door neighbor. I didn't know this when I got the job. Small world. They were having a bonfire/skating party (the lake is frozen) the other night and I stopped by with the family before we went to bed and we got to chatting about Ireland, where she's from. When I mentioned this anecdote she said, "Oh, I bet that happened in September." Apparently there is a big pagan festival somewhere (she told me where, I didn't recognize the name) in Ireland in late August and old scabs are picked between the Walsh's and the McDonough's. By September there's Hell to pay.

These two clans lost their land during the potato famine and have been "rovers" ever since. The locals call them gypsies, and generally call the Roma by their own name. It's not political correctness, as far as I can tell, it's just that the Walsh's and McDonough's are considered to be more deserving of an epithet than the wandering folk who keep to themselves...

Present company excepted, I'm sure.