The Coat has an Easy Day in Rush

Sometimes a good coat just has to take it easy for a while. It is hard work, this travelling business. Arriving at Rush, the bed looked too inviting to ignore.
It might a good idea to have a rest, while K and companion go off to explore a few neolithic tombs, and the Hill of Tara (Hill of Kings, nearly all the High Kings of Ireland were crowned here, she tells me).

K can't wait to tell me all about it on her return. Lucky I am a good listener, I can't really go anywhere after all.
They started off on what looked like a beautiful, sunny day. Just a few kilometers north of Rush they encountered heavy fog. This lasted all the way to the Boyne Valley. Having decided to visit Knowth first, they caught the shuttle bus and were off within the hour. Wow, it must have been very atmospheric to walk among these megalithic structures. Any second a neolithic man could walk out of the mist and greet you, or otherwise, depending on how he perceives you.

Knowth, Ireland

By the time they arrive at Newgrange, most of the fog had lifted, and with it the mysterious atmosphere. This passage tomb receives more company. Newgrange has an accessible passage and chamber which is lit by the rising sun for a short time for a few days at the Winter Solstice. This wondrous event is simulated with a torch as all the lights go out. To stand in the dark in a neolithic tomb with just a few others, feeling the huge rocks at your back and surrounding you must have been a very moving event. As the torch shone on the floor through the tiny window above the door, K felt the presence of tears in her eyes, and the ancient people who built this amazing structure.

 

Newgrange, Ireland

At the Hill of Tara, Brian Boru challenged the then High King of Ireland, Máel Sechnaill mac Domnaill to battle in 1002. Máel Sechnaill was unable to to put up a fight and recognized Brian as High King of Ireland. This event was crucial in turning the tide against the Norse invaders and saw the Irish people united as one country.

Hill of Tara, Ireland

Now I really must rest as tomorrow, at an unfriendly hour, we must leave the Irish, and Brian Boru, to fend for themselves as we fly to Vienna.

The Coat Visits Brian Boru

On arriving in Ballina, on the Shannon River, K is eager to visit Holy Island. Now her philosophy of a Blank Mind will be put to the test. Holy Island, Inis Cealtra, lies one kilometer off shore in Lough Derg, near Mountshannon. It was here that Brian Boru's brother was Abbot. The island has been holy since pre-Christian times, and has a long Christian history, a place of pilgrimage for hundreds of years. Sacked by Vikings many times.
To cross to the island visitors rely on a local, Gerry Madden, to get them across. Phone calls prior to visiting had been unproductive. So K and companion go to Mountshannon to seek him for themselves. It seems the summer season has closed, and Gerry in need of a vacation himself, he is not to be found.
Two wildlife photographers come in from the lough in their runabout, serious photographic equipment on board. K begins a conversation with them inquiring where Gerry may be found. His boat, with trailer, is not in its usual place, ask at the hotel, they are family of his. The conversation turns to their photographic equipment. It turns out that one of them has been photographing local white-tailed eagles, that over the last ten years have increased in numbers. He has self-published two books, and postcards. Companion wishes to buy some postcards, K says no, we want to buy a book. With the book, the photographer gives them some postcards. This opportunity will not come again, one can not walk into a book shop and buy this book. He sells them from the boot of his car.
At the hotel there is only locked doors, perhaps the whole family has gone on vacation.
On the way back to Ballina there is a viewing point, where Holy Island may be seen at its nearest sight to the shore. The round tower can be seen clearly. K is tempted to take the Holy Island boat and row herself across.

Next stop, Brian Boru's Fort. After leaving the Rock of Cashel, Brian came here to be High King, He built a fort close to the River Shannon in a strategic spot, to intercept the Vikings as they tried to make to make their way up river to ransack Celtic villages.
Here K and companion meet a young family taking their new rescue dog for a walk. The children are about four and six years of age, Hannah and Leo. Hannah takes a liking to them telling her mother that she has made some new friends and they will look after her. Leo, the younger, prefers to stay with mum.
There is not much to see here, a round rise in the ground, quite steep, hollow in the centre. Trees have been planted here that would not have been here in Brian's time. Lough Derg narrows here to form the River Shannon which can be seen from the top of the fort, it is a very strategic spot., Brian chose it well.

Brian Boru's Fort on the River Shannon

Brian Boru built a palace, Kincora, at Killaloe. A palace of light, like no other. The ground is now occupied by the Catholic church.

Ancient Ireland and the Six Week Coat

There is not a great deal to interest others in the travels of a Six Week Coat. Catastrophes and disasters fill peoples television screens, my travels are mundane, and of very little concern to anyone besides K and her travelling companion. However, it is all of interest to me.
Ireland is indeed green and ancient, and wet at times, as I can see from the backseat of the rented Renault. Of course the Renault is an accident, an Opel was what was ordered. But Enterprise refused to give K a car, no credit card, even though it had been prepaid. Debit cards are unworthy, it seems. Europcar came to the party, but all their small cars were on the road, hence a bigger car. More room for me of course.

Over the desolate and stunning Wicklow Mountains to Glendalough. Here Saint Kevin spent his days surrounded in peace. He lived as a hermit in his cave above the second lake, the forest is green and serene as you walk towards it. He wouldn't have had something as warm as me to wear. The round tower and remains of ecclesiastical buildings that attract the tourist are not from his time but later.
A quick visit to Saint Mullins, to pay our respects to Saint Moling, poet, prince and priest. This monastery was built by him in the seventh century. The ruins here, like Glendalough, are not of his time. The River Barrow still runs along the site where he built his watercourse to power his mill. He lived to become Archbishop of Ferns. 
This diversion makes us run a little late. Arriving at Thomastown, there is no where to eat. So it is hot chips on the bridge over the River Nore, ever so stylish. It seems to me that an Irish breakfast can keep anyone going all day (especially if it has been cooked by Garvan). Opposite the site of Jerpoint Abbey is our lovely Georgian home for the night, Abbey House.
Rain, thunder and lightning all night. Helen, our host, is very much afeared, since the year when lightning struck her home. I do not intend to go looking at a 12th century, old Cistercian ruin in the rain, so I let K and companion go out alone. It seems they have the best of times though. A guided tour, four plus guide, plus rain. Margaret, the guide, each person allocated their station in the abbey, then proceeds to tell them the conditions they lived in. K, being the oldest, gets the best job, landowner. It is all down hill from there. It seems they get plenty of beer to drink, if not much food.
It is still raining when we arrive at Rock of Cashel. I remain in the car, and once more let them go out alone. They tell me that this place is very impressive. Another round tower here.
After visiting the Brian Boru exhibition in Dublin, K has been very keen to come here. As king of Munster, Brian ruled from here, until he moved to the River Shannon near Killaloe. When he left he donated the Rock to the church. Hence it has a royal and ecclesiasitical history. Since Brian Boru lived here in the 10th century, not a lot survives from his time. Mostly, the buildings are 12th and 13th century. None the less the air is charged with history, as the Rock looks over the surrounding land from a great vantage point. Imagination and a feeling for atmosphere is required here.
Driving on to Youghal, we arrive during a grand storm. The sea is lapping at the streets surrounding the harbour, boats are side by side with the cars, and the lightning over the ocean is a spectacle not to be missed. Our lodgings at Avonmore House are very spacious, such freedom. See below. Plenty of room to hang around here.

Dublin Welcomes the Six Week Coat

Dublin taxi drivers are very friendly and caring. After arriving at the Dublin Ferry Terminal we hail a taxi who drives us across the Liffey to Two Rooms in Dublin, I get into the back with K, she is not letting me out of her sight. Garvan and Fred, resident schnauzer helper, at the door to greet us. Our room is upstairs in what Australians would call a terrace house (I am from Turkey you know). Airy room, no fussy furniture, old stand-alone wardrobe, wooden toy crane, a desk with a vintage radio, a brass bed. I do like the stylish wardrobe.
Not long after settling in with one of Garvan's homemade scones and a cup of tea, we explore Dublin. Just walking. Dinner is what interests me, at Le Bon Crubeen. K has the pan roasted supreme of chicken, great place for her special gluten-free diet.

The next day, being Monday, it seems we have tickets booked for an Irish play, a world premier no less! It is the Dublin Theatre Festival here. The play, Our Few and Evil Days, is by Mark O'Rowe at the Abbey Theatre. This means we visit Le Bon Crubeen again, for their pre-theatre dinner menu this time, a set menu. Service excellent, so we can get on to the theatre just a few streets away on time.

A play with dark secrets. First half K laughs at times, after interval the family secrets are revealed layer by layer. Hearts stop and tears fall, then a standing ovation, it makes the hairs stand up on my collar. Brilliant!

PS. Dear Lynn,
Thank you so much for your letter. No one has ever written a letter to me before, I feel very honoured. I assure you that K is treating me very well, and is giving me all the outings I could wish for. See the above.
I have travelled a long way from Nantwich. But you never know I might see you again sometime in the future. Once again I thank you for your interest in my welfare.
Kind regards
The Six Week Coat

Travels of The Six Week Coat Go On

Something out of the ordinary has come my way, a night out at Tre-Ysgawen Hall, Island of Anglesey. Down a wooded path near Llangefni, sits a grand old house, with a history since 1882. Surrounded by secluded woodlands and set amongst landscaped gardens it is not an everyday find. It has been a family home, and now a very extra-ordinary venue and restaurant.
A wedding was in full flight, with guests and wedding party invading nearly every corner of this grand house. In the bar we enjoyed a canape with our drinks. And that was just the beginning. I was allowed to stay with K.
The restaurant was glorious with chandeliers, paintings, ornate decorations, elegant furniture. We sat near a window and watched the moon sail through the clouded sky (through the south). The meal started with Amuse Bouche and ended with Tea in the Library.

 

The following day I was packed into the back seat and driven to Holyhead via South Stack. There is a very dramatic view of the South Stack lighthouse from the cliff tops, just before you get to Holyhead ferry terminal. After dropping the rental car off at the drop off point, the car unpacked, K turns around and sees a familiar face, Jane from Drws y Coed! Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather! Hands behind her back a smile on her face. What have I left behind? says K.
My friend, the blue cashmere wrap has been attempting to stay behind at Drws y Coed the whole time we were there, but has not succeeded. J found her and has brought her to us.

 

Crossing the Irish Sea was not much fun. It was rough, later that evening further ferry crossings were cancelled. All I could see, and you can see I had a fine view, was water above and below. 

Arriving at Two Rooms in Dublin was a great relief, a lovely rest in the old wardrobe was just what I needed.

Further adventures in Dublin to follow.

Travels of the Six Week Coat

There I was hanging about in the secret room upstairs of the AgeUK thrift shop in Nantwich, hoping to have a rest. Winters have come and gone, not too many though, my colour is still good, a nice bright burnt orange, I am mostly wool with a touch of cashmere (and some of that nylon stuff, I don't know why they had to put that in). Glorious big buttons down the front, and on my sleeve tabs. An elegant wide collar with rows of top stitching, well spaced.

Coming up the stairs I heard an Australian voice. What could she possibly be looking for? And who brought her up here? Not Lynne, the manager. Ah, one of the volunteers, on her day off even.
The next thing I knew I was off my hanger and on the visitor's back. Straight away I knew she loved me. I didn't think she would ever take me off again. What a bargain I was, all the stock had to go out the door so the shop could be refurbished, so half price she paid for me.
Not long after I was on her back and in church, St Mary's, what a lovely, elegant 14th century parish church, with the generous style of a cathedral. There is even a crusader laid to rest here.

Now I am on an adventure to see the world, well some of it.
The following night I was taken out to dinner at Lastra Farm Restaurant at Penrhyd, Amlwch on Island of Anglesey . Very nice this place was too, it won The Travellers Award, 2014. K kept me close by in the predinner drinks lounge then I was most upset when she took me off and the waitress hung me in a cloakroom. With some very inferior coats, I might add.
I wonder where I will go next?

The mountains are calling and I must go. John Muir

Monday in the Snowy Mountains, New South Wales.
A light zephyr, one cloud, an abundance of sunshine and snow at Smiggin Holes.

The miracle of snowgums' recovery from bushfires is slow but steady.

Tuesday at Perisher.
A cooler breeze, one dozen clouds, and still an abundance of sunshine and snow.

The young and the gone.

Wednesday, on the Cascades Trail.
A stiff, wet wind, a sky covered in clouds of all kinds and colours, a tiny patch of sunshine, and light snow falling, melting before it touches the earth.

Snowy mountains.

The joy of the Snowy Mountains, the companionship of long-time friends cannot be surpassed. It replenishes my soul and body.