Tea on the bog

I touched briefly on the Esk, I think when I spoke of Radio Eireann. The Esk is a hill farm in Kerry, just before you go over the Caha Mountains on the long road from Kenmare to Glengariff, and I must tell you some time about when my father-in-law and his brother worked building that road when they were young.
It wasn't the first time I was in Kerry, when I first was on the Esk, but that's another story, of an earlier Kerry. Padraig and Una were on holiday with us, with their family, when we decided to go up and see the Esk. The farm-house was abandoned, but we roamed around, and found a piece of bog-oak, from trees which were overwhelmed by the bog when it started growing four thousand years ago. I put my eye on a piece which I longed to have for my rockery in County Meath. We left, and I had a phone-call in the evening and had to leave Kerry.
Maura, Padraig and Una, decided Des must have his bog-oak, and went back to the Esk, but this time they had company, Stephen, Maura's and Padraig's cousin, who was stacking turf. "So it was you was here yesterday." We had thought the hills were deserted, but someone had told Stephen he had company. In fact, Stephen told how his neighbours would know his sheep individually, and would look out for one if it was lost. I have just thought of the time we found the ewe lying on its back on the other side of the Mac gillicuddy's Reeks, and how our attention was drawn by the plaintive bleating of its lamb: another story. Stephen was anxious to get the turf out to the road and get payment for it that night, but said, of course they could have the bog-oak, and he would help them get it out, but first they had to have a cup of tea. 'There's no tea like the tea you brew in the bog". They said "Well now we'll help you get the turf out to the road." "Well, I'm beholden to you, now I'll have my money here [right-hand, back trousers pocket] this evening".