I am not sure that we Americans would not be more agreeable if we spent a month in Ireland every year, and perhaps Ireland would profit from a month in America.
At the Brodigans' (Mr.Brodigan is a large farmer, and our nearest neighbour) all the clocks are from ten to twenty minutes fast or slow; and what a peaceful place it is! The family doesn't care when it has its dinner, and, mirabile dictu, the cook doesn't care either! "If you have no exact time to depend upon, how do you catch trains ?" I asked Mr.Brodigan.
"Sure that's not an everyday matter, and why be foostherin' over it?
But we do, four times out o' five, ma'am!" "How do you like it that fifth time when you miss it ?" "Sure it's no more throuble to you to miss it the wan time than to hurry five times! A clock is an overrated piece of furniture, to my mind, Mrs.
Beresford, ma'am.

A man can ate whin he's hungry, go to bed whin he's sleepy, and get up whin he's slept long enough; for faith and it's thim clocks he has inside of himself that don't need anny winding!" "What if you had a business appointment with a man in the town, and missed the train ?" I persevered.
"Trains is like misfortunes; they never come singly, ma'am.

Wherever there's a station the trains do be dhroppin' in now and again, and what's the differ which of thim you take ?" "The man who is waiting for you at the other end of the line may not agree with you," I suggested.
"Sure, a man can always amuse himself in a town, ma'am.

If it's your own business you're coming on, he knows you'll find him; and if it's his business, then begorra let him find you!" Which quite reminded me of what the Irish elf says to the English elf in Moira O'Neill's fairy story: "A waste of time?
Why, you've come to a country where there's no such thing as a waste of time.

We have no value for time here.