Seduced by the all too vivid illustrations: road signs pointing to Newry, Dundalk and Armagh. What more was needed for this one whose fate has been to live away from her beloved Newry?

With selective vision, I concentrated on those road signs and completely ignored the pony and trap, King Puck and the statue of The Virgin Mary! All the trappings of that part of Ireland south of the border. And yes, it is quite clearly stated on the cover that this is "A journey through Ireland".

If I took any notice at all of this is seriously questionable. I suppose having noted that Mark McCrum's forebears were all from somewhere near to Crossmaglen, I convinced myself that he would have a quick jaunt around the South and concentrate on finding his roots in the North.

So, I happily paid my £7.99 and settled down for 'a good read'.  Alas, it was not to be!

McCrum, having disembarked from the ferry at Dun Laoghaire, turned left and headed south.

The reader is then taken on an in-depth, nitty-gritty, warts-and-all tour of most of the twenty-six counties, somehow managing to ignore the (wee) County Louth.

I've had holidays as far south as Cork and as far west as Galway and excellent they were too.   But I have honestly never really identified with people or places further south than Dublin.

Maybe that is why I was bored with this book.

I was overloaded with detail, religion and politics. I could have managed without the shenanigans of Puck Fair and the Rose of Tralee Festival and the sad, funny, pathetic Lisdoonvarna episode. This author was, I think, "'aving a larf".   But then so were those southern entrepreneurs. Laughing all the way to the bank and up their sleeves at Mr. McCrum!

He did eventually head North.  But not until the final seventeen pages was there any mention of his ancestral home. The mysteriously un-named village near Crossmaglen.  His forebears were, at one time, quite wealthy with a linen mill and great house etc and the accompanying lifestyle.   But the "cap doffing" days were long gone. A fortune had been made and lost and McCrum's relatives, like so many of us, found it necessary to seek a living elsewhere.

 Was I disappointed?

Yes!

Partly my own fault of course. I did feel however, that as a travel writer McCrum indulged himself too much with attempting to understand the political/religious situation in Ireland. Greater men and women than him have tried and failed!

And how I wish he had concentrated as much on Newry and South Armagh as I had on those featured road signs!