Month: August 2011

In the photo gallery there is a photograph of the Pier Head pub in Kinvara, a pretty little town south of Galway city. In the rain, the town looks lovely, the shops and numerous pubs painted bright colours. Inside the Pier Head sitting at a table eating chips and drinking coffee, yes coffee, were two Australians. The woman received a phone call from her daughter Kate and began to cry. “What’s going on?” thought the man, tucking into a few more chips while his wife was busy on the phone. The woman handed the phone to the husband, saying, “Mike wants to talk to you?” The Australian tourists were last seen in an Irish pub late on Saturday night celebrating the engagement.

Sam and June announced the wedding date when we were in France and Kate and Mike announced their engagement when we were in Ireland We arrive in Scotland next week.

 

 

We drove from Ballycumber this morning to Clifden in Galway on the Atlantic Coast, about 150 km. The lady in the restaurant tonight said, “You’ve come that far!” It was a lovely drive through the mountains alongside a lake for a lot of the way, dodging red and blue painted sheep grazing on the side of the road. Kylemore Abbey was on the way so stopped in for 10 minutes which lasted two hours. The “house” was grand but the walled Victorian garden was something special. Maybe the block out the back at home is going under some French, Irish, Scottish, English redesign. It was misty with rain when we visited a castle and the man in the ticket booth said, “Tis a soft day taday it tis.” Clifton is a lovely town sheltered from the ocean in a large inlet. We’re staying in the same B & B as Jo and Kev when they were here. Thank for the recommendation! The owners directed us to the old farm down by the water where stone walls divided small paddocks. The low trees were sculpted by the wind and it must have been a tough life living in the cottage that was now used by the cattle. The High Sky Road leads to a vantage point high above the town and overlooking the Atlantic. The sky was grey and the breeze was fresh, but out to sea a tinges of weak light were on the water. We drove home along the cliff road in the dark. I thought Sharon might hold my hand but she gripped the handle of the door instead.

On a man made mound in the paddock next to the house is a Folly, a structure made to look like a ruin but is in fact made to look like it is the remains of a building. It is still probably a few hundred years old. People would have picnics and meet there. Sharon and I reinacted a liaison written in local history.