Corinna and I made a quick trip to Ireland last weekend to visit our friend
Alasdair (aka Angus Fox). We laughed, we cried (at the end), we laughed some more, we played Scrabble, we called each other “titface” and “equim.”
Photos after the fold…
Corinna gazes pensively out the train from Dublin to Port Laoise.
The next day, Alasdair takes us to see the sea at Doolin.
The sea! The cliffs! The rocks!
The rocks! The sea! Corinna wants to live here in splendid isolation, contemplating mortality and eternity.
Corinna and Alasdair take a short walk back from a long pier.
Between Doolin and Galway we descended Ireland’s famous Corkscrew Hill, where Corinna snapped this author-photo-worthy picture of me.
I retaliated 2 days later by taking this author-photo-worthy picture of Corinna in lovely rural Tipperary.
We stayed in this coach house at Ashley Park, a beautiful B&B/wedding venue in County Tipperary near the town of Nenagh.
Nenagh is pronounced like Nina, so your correspondent demanded photos in front of this sign…
…and this one…
…and this one, which is a selfie I took on a walk the following day.
Ashley Park House served delicious breakfasts. Here’s Corinna “Keto” Cohn enjoying some Irish bread, which he only consumes on holiday lest he compromise his girlish figure.
This peacock lives with at least 2 others on the grounds of Ashley Park.
Stone walls are everywhere in Ireland, sustaining micro-forests of mosses, lichens, and small plants.
When we weren’t luxuriating at Ashley Park House, we were visiting Alasdair and his canine (and feline) housemates.
One morning I walked the 4.5 miles from Ashley Park to Alasdair’s. The roads are narrow and not set up for pedestrians. It looks peaceful and serene until a car speeds along and you have to squeeze yourself to the side.
Don’t smoke Alasdair, it’ll give you cancer NEVER MIND TOO LATE
Also visiting Alasdair was Michelle, shown here suffering a game of Scrabble which I won.
That evening we traveled to Birr for dinner with the magnificent Stella O’Malley, who also drove us to the airport bus at 5am 2 days later.
My journey home took 22 hours, including half a mile dragging my suitcase in the dark, scaling a locked gate, a seat-of-the-pants car ride while drowsy with Dramamine, a very long bus ride, and 3 flights. I’m still recovering as I type this, but it was worth it.