Finally, 35 minutes after the official Saint Patrick’s Day Parade starting time, the vehicles ahead of us started their engines and began to inch forward. In the distance we heard clashing cymbals and tootling trumpets from the town’s brass band. We strolled along the route, handing out library leaflets to the grown-ups and bags of sugary treats to small children.

Our costumes got a few rounds of applause and the giant papier maché brain certainly got people talking, but we couldn’t really compete with the school of dance behind us. Every so often they would pause, crank up the music and perform a quick routine involving spinning, high kicks, and back flips.

Linda caught me eye as I watched them in admiration. “I am not doing back flips at my age, Nina. Don’t even t...

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