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.