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23 years ago my wife and I went to Ireland for our honeymoon. (Yes, it was 26 years ago we got married. It took us 3 years to save enough for a honeymoon after paying for the wedding.)

We went to visit "The hill of kings" at Tara.

It rained every day we were there that trip, and this day was no different. While we were climbing about the hill, I slipped in the mud and slid down the whole side of the hill, landing with a large bump at the bottom.
I suspect I cracked my collar bone from the camcorder case I had slung over it when it happened.
The mud from that slide never came out of the pants, or underpants that made the slide. They were eventually thrown away, blue pants with brown stains from the hill of kings.

Between the rain, mud, broken bone and the human eating sheep we encountered, it really did seem like the hill of kings didn’t like me.

I have not gone back to Tara since. Just in case.

Now, 23 years later, I got a notice from 23 and me that a first cousin had shown up in the genetic matches.
Turned out to be my cousin John. He is my mother’s brother’s son.

So, he has my mother’s father’s Y chromosome, which I did not inherit. So, he’s got genetic traces to the family I couldn’t access until he shared it: