I’m just back from a very enjoyable 18 days in Portugal. We stayed in a place called Alvor, in the Algarve. It takes a place like that to remind you what a dull and colourless place Ireland can be – I mean, we do have colours in Ireland – but they’re just so muted and damp it can be hard to tell them apart.
Springtime in Ireland. Not what I signed up for. Nor you either, I’m sure. Where’s that fecken wardrobe? I wanna get out.
This time last year, it was a different story – temperatures hitting 20 degrees and kids jumping into the liffey to cool down. Take me back to THAT version of reality. Of course, the current screwed up world we’re living in isn’t just depressing, it’s downright scary.
I closed up the summer home in Clogherhead last saturday. Bummer. Where did the summer go? Personally, I’d have liked a bit more sun and a lot less rain, but summer’s still my favourite season, and this is my favourite place to spend it. Here’s a couple of shots I took in the field that’s facing the beach. There’s a sombre, some might even say ‘baleful’ tone that seemed to suit the day.
Paid a visit to my favorite wreck again on monday. One of my shots got picked up on broadsheet.ie and consequently, I found out a bit about the ship and it’s history.
This is the wreck of the Irish Trader, of Hartlepool, grounded in 1974 on way to Drogheda.The notorious Littlejohn brothers, Keith and Kenneth who claimed to be British agents, hid out on the wreck while on the run here in the 70s.