Went to a wedding in Mullingar in the summer of '83 and spent the week driving around playing golf with a couple of frat brothers. On our day at Lahinch we were on the first tee when the wind started howling, the skies darkened and it looked like we were going to need our raingear. As we stopped and dragged the pants out of our bags and started pulling them on over the then-spiked shoes (yet another reason to like soft spikes!), the members in the bar were all looking out the windows, laughing and pointing at the silly 'Mericans. Crusty old guy comes out laughing and says "Lads, ye'll not need all that, look at the goats," who were quietly sitting on top of a nearby hill munching away. Sure enough, as soon as we were fully suited, the wind switched, the skies cleared, and it was a beautiful summer's day...