Ozzyjack
I'm so glad your experience in these parts was good. (There are rude, unpleasant people everywhere.) We have had French and Polish friends tickled pink by the way motorists often give way or let others out of a side road to join the queue on the main road.
One friend had a young autistic child who vanished from her side in the supermarket. After searching, the staff called the police, which frightened my friend. ""In my country, the police would be angry, and shout at you and tell you that you were a bad mother." She was overcome by the kindness of the police here, who sat her down and talked kindly and reassuringly to her. One stayed with her while the other found the child who had legged it through the car park across two roads to the nearby MacDonalds. Child psychologust in his spare time, or just experience?
I love the Pig poem. I first heard it recited over 40 years ago by Ryan (Davies: Ryan at the Rank; Poems and Pints) and have remembered the second verse ever since. I didn't know it was Irish, though? I have just checked, to find it was written by a John Leroy Maxwell. One of his other poems sounds American (omitted auxiliary, "cute", "Groundhog").