Back at the end of August, when I was in Sligo for a short break, the days were long, languid, and warm. Now inky darkness descends at around five o’clock and there is a distinct autumnal chill in the air. I need to rummage through my scarf drawer, before I leave the house, for something to wrap around my neck as a bulwark against the cold.
One of the most enjoyable things I have done of late was to go to a talk, given by Mary Norris, at Dublin’s Italian Institute of Culture.
Until quite recently I worked weekends which meant I often missed interesting events as more often than not they were scheduled for Saturdays and Sundays when the majority of folk were off work.
At the end of August I went on a short trip to Sligo on Ireland’s west coast – it was a super relaxing.
In May I went on holiday to Italy where I stayed in a town, Montecatini Terme, that has a regular and reliable train service to Florence and best of all the journey time is less than an hour. Florence is a compact easy-to-walk-around city: here’s some of what I did on the days I headed off from base to explore it.
I am usually surprised when someone else is surprised when I say I intend travelling abroad on my own. I shouldn’t be as a score or so years ago I would have thought it more likely that I might circumnavigate the seas surrounding Ireland, in a bath with a spoon for a paddle, that head off to foreign parts on my lonesome.
This year as part of its excellent Spring into Heritage programme Dun Laoghaire Rathdown Council has once again opened to the public, on certain days, some of the historic buildings they own/manage. By a country mile the smallest of these, at 6M by 3.6M approximately, is The Oratory on Dun Laoghaire’s Convent Road.
Recently my part-time job has taken me up to and back down from a spot just outside Drogheda more times than a lift in a high-rise office block yo-yo’s between floors on a busy day. By the by, in case you don’t know, Drogheda is a port town situated roughly fifty-five kilometres north of Dublin.
I don’t lead a multihypenated fast-laned life. That’s fine as life in the slow lane suits me well. However when life slows to a pace that would, in comparison, make a snail’s progress look like a Usain Bolt sprint, that’s not so good.