I wish I could allude to some sort of past glory days, but the truth is I’m probably too young for that. I don’t have some amazing tale about living through the 70’s or about my voyage across the ocean. My salad days were running through the trees and pretending to make salad with my best friend. That and re-watching Toy Story to no end.
Either way, my salad days are pretty much entirely bleak. And there’s definitely no dressing on that salad.
They remind me of the stories I read about the boyhood of Fionn Maccumhail. He used to run around the forest too, but least the animals would chase him back. He’d run with a thorn to prick them with and would catch ducks under water by snagging on their feet. If you’ve never read the Boyhood of Fionn, you truly are missing out on some decent Irish storytelling. The book will make you realize just how impure we all are in our lives today.
Anyway, there you have it. My salad days and the boyhood of a legendary Irish giant.