Billy Scanlan15 Stood up to the plate for Ireland ME & MY BOYS’ SPANISH BREKKIE BUFFET BLITZ

‘WE’LL FRY THEM ON THE BEACHES’: Billy has succumbed to the lure of the all you can eat breakfast in sunny Spain

COME the day, come the hour, come the Spanish resort hotel buffet breakfast.

There was me, my family, one or two other Irish families, and many Germans, and many more French, and others that looked a bit German and a bit French, maybe they were Dutch.

It was my first Spanish family holiday in my first Spanish holiday hotel - the sort I’d only ever seen on Sky One back in the days when people occasionally switched on Sky One.

But I knew about buffet breakfasts. There’s something in every Irish heart that knows a buffet breakfast before we even take our first breath. I’m not sure it’s famine related, but we know.

WHAT will I miss most about Spain, now that I’m home? It’s doing the little ‘pulling an imaginary tiny pint sign language’ every time I asked for a beer at the bar.

It’s almost as heartwarming as the knowing look the bar staff give when I follow up the sign language with a broad hand gesture and say “large”... These people understand me so well.

That’s when the opening drumbeats of Ireland’s Call started playing in my head. A lad in a Kerry GAA jersey was already standing at the fried stuff section. We made eye contact and nodded, no words necessary... Beat

The drum beat made way for the first verse: “We stand like brothers, one for all and all together, we will stay united through darker days, and we’ll be unbeatable forever...”

Bacon was added. Germans glanced up over shallow bowls of muesli. French briefly stopped putting apricot jam on single croissants. I put a tomato on my plate, then - with defiance - another sausage.

We were heading to the chorus... “Hearts of steel and heads are bowing, vowing never to be broken...” I used the prongs to get bread, a ladle of beans, and then added three fried eggs.

The plate was taken to a table where my boys had already started eating. I then went to the drinks section and chose a bowl for the coffee - the cups were too small for this proud son of Clarinbridge.

Eat And then, and only then, I began to eat. I methodically cleared my plate. I’d waited 47 years for this, so no need to rush. My sons did the same. Then - in childhood innocence they asked what it was we were to do next. And - with a flourish - I placed a croissant on my food pile. I tried to make eye contact with the French, but they looked away. I sat down and ate - there was eye contact with the other Irish family, another knowing nod, no words necessary. I looked at my boys and said: “Now, we won’t need to eat again until dinner.” They understood. For us, a buffet breakfast is more than a buffet - it’s the chance to take some absurd and potentially life threatening national pride. We’ll fight them beside the sausages, we’ll fight them near the slices of ham and cheese. We’ll eat like it’s the one thing Ireland is still competitive at, which is probably the case. Rest assured, Ireland’s call was answered.