Mostly Hurling:Dear Blog. Today is June 1st. I've been here since the middle of March. It was strange then, not having the warm weather we normally have at home at that time of the year. But the sun rays have been replaced by a new obsession in my life. Here they have an organisation called the GAA which is better than any tinnies or barbie (no, not the doll). This acronym means Gaelic Athletic Association. Over the spring it made up for the lack of light and cold, dark mornings.

I arrived here the weekend before I was to start the job. It was like festival time in the town. I was really glad to be in the Emerald Isle for the St Patrick's festival. The streets were decorated black and gold. I now know that the gold is called amber here. The bus from Belfast dropped me almost to the door. The family I was staying with were very friendly but I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

After checking that it was okay to walk around the town unaccompanied I took to the streets. The places I got to know so well over the next while were awash with the two colours. Flags on Ma Kearney's blew in the night wind; O'Donnell's bunting danced to the same tune and Hanratty's window displayed posters all in the same colours. Crosby's window wished "Best of Luck Rangers", as did Superbites. Another sign read "Cross Rangers are hard to beat . . . Dr Crokes face defeat". There were paintings of sportsmen with cups but not a saint in sight. Of course, I now know what it was all about. I've become a convert to this ripper of an organisation and its brilliant games of Gaelic football and hurling. The football is a little like a mix of our own footie, rugby and soccer. I'll explain more about it in a future blog.

Well now I'm based in the south of Ireland in a county called Cork. I'm living with the Lordans, Dan and Peg. Ireland is divided into 32 counties. Cork is the biggest. These people sing many of their words and some of them speak very quickly and finish some of their sentences with the word "like" or "boy". "Ja know what I mean, like?" or "All right, boy."

On Sunday last I went to my first big hurling game. I've been to some of the local games but this one was the first really important game of the year. I bought my Cork shirt in Cummins' sports shop in Ballincollig. It's red and white with the city crest and the team sponsors' O2 logo on the front. I learned some phrases for the game like "Come on the Rebels . . . Deano . . ." . . . "Gwan Ga" . . . "Hurt him, Rock". There is also a cobber playing who comes from Fiji. I didn't know they had a team there. The county of Clare were the opposition.

We travelled by car through villages with strange sounding names like Kilbehenny, Sceithenarince and Horse and Jockey. I'm not sure why I consider them strange when we've got names like Wagga Wagga, Innaloo and Bli Bli at home. A sign along the way introduced the next county. It read "Welcome to Tipperary, the home of hurling". Dan said that that was a very old sign. Even though he did say Tipperary must be planning on winning this year because Queen Elizabeth is coming to Thurles.

When we parked we had brown bread sandwiches and we made tea with boiling water from a flask. Apparently this is part of the routine for many people. Thurles has a square in its centre. There were many wagons in the square. People in white coats sold chips and sausages and hamburgers from these. Other people sold water and bars of chocolate from portable tables. Men with strange accents shouted "hats, flags or colours?" as they sold from their cardboard boxes. There were black-market ticket-sellers to be heard saying things like "Anyone buoyin tickas?".

The sound of buskers added to the festival-like atmosphere. Dan asked one of them to play a song called The Banks. The rival fans taunted each other in a way that sounded friendly to me, as they made their way to the stadium. We got our tickets from the ticket office attached to the stadium. They cost €25 for the stand. For that money we saw two games and a schoolchildren's short game. Not bad value. A match programme cost €3.

Before the main event we had a brawl with many of the players involved. A fan behind us said you'd see worse in Temple Bar on a Saturday night. It was mild compared to some of the scuffles I've seen at home.

Both teams parade around after a marching band before the game. Everybody roars and screams. Then the national anthem is played. The referee throws the ball in along the ground between the four midfielders. There are 15 players on each side. The game is a little like ice hockey except players are also allowed to catch the ball. They play with timber sticks a little like hockey sticks. They are called hurleys.

This is a fantastic game full of non-stop, high-octane action from beginning to end. I wonder why it's not an Olympic sport? Some players wear helmets. Others don't. But that's as far as the bodily protection goes. They drive into each other like small, mad giants on speed or helium. Some try to catch the ball with hurleys swinging around them. It's not a game for the faint-hearted.

Dan said this particular game wasn't the greatest. It didn't look too bad to me. The referee is called some of the same names here as he is at home. Sometimes there were seven or eight officials on the field if a player got injured.

There were 31 scores in this game. We won and I heard a man with a Cork cap near Dan say that Waterford were waiting in the long grass, whatever that means.

"Come on the Rebels, boy."