Galey gael

Gale force winds and driving rain from the Atlantic scuppered our plans to go camping last night. The nipper was up for it, but there was a chance we’d all be blown away in the middle of the night so we sought refuge in a B&B. Draughts howl around the house to show us what we’re missing outside.
Now it’s merely raining, a steady heavy drizzle for the last 17 hours, and there’s only a warning of gales. Everything’s wet. The nipper’s sleeping – there’s nothing else to do. 
He stayed in a hostel last night, and loved it. Plenty to see – a cat, a couple of sheep, weird tourists – and he slept like a baby. Now he needs more wonders to marvel at.
Connemara is hauntingly beautiful through the rain. Shades of green brushed by low clouds and sombre mist, it’s a wonderful wilderness punctuated by scattered rocks, lonely trees, shimmering lakes, rocking sheep n’ rolling bog. Bollocks to the rain, ‘tis time to go exploring.


  1. Is he marvelling at wonders, or simply enjoying a little bounce about, and the company two happy parents who love him? Probably not a question that needs an answer, but I pose it nonetheless.


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