Tuesday, February 21, 2017

By the wild Atlantic

Another misty day. The Aran islands are visible from Sue and John's house on a normal day, but it was another strangely misty one. John drove us to Lahinch where we walked along by the white sea, while John sat sensibly in the car. The sea white as anything. I bought Lady Gregory's Complete Irish Legends. Then we went off to The Cliffs of Moher, which were breathtaking. There is a sort of tourist centre nearby burrowed into the hillside. There was a very smart wind and then rain whipping off the sea, and it felt quite exposed. It is a massive tourist attraction, and I can see why. John was saying that people used to gather there to wave to the ships their relatives were on as they sailed off to America, never to be seen again.

Then home, and reading a book John had lent me called Whoredom in Kimmage, a sort of travel book written by Rosemary Mahoney, which was rather funny. Also succumbed to the luxury of an afternoon snooze.

In the evening, a bit of a wild night, off to another Doolin pub restaurant called Fitzpatrick's, where we met Sue and John's pals John and Kim. Kim had worked with Sue in Birmingham in hospitals, and John is a leading Irish anaesthetist. John amusing about his early experiences in London working on building sites and in pubs as a student. The Irish Taoiseach Enda Kenny is leaving his job soon, and John said he had a limp handshake. I, however, will miss the occasional Kenny headline.

Below Lorraine and Sue, and Lorraine and I at Lahinch. The seafront was being re-engineered after a hard storm a few years ago, that had the sea storming over O'Looney's bar on the seafront, and washing all the fish out from the beachside aquarium. Views of the Cliffs of Moher, rather breathtaking. The van of the locally based artist Philip Morrison that John and Sue rather like in Lahinch.

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