Whatever that means
Up at the crack of early to drive to Troon to catch the ferry to Larne. Straight off the ferry and down the motorway to Dublin where we popped in to see our friend Clodagh, her wee lad Malachy and her Mam and Dad. Lovely wee stop for a cuppa and some chat, sitting in the garden before finishing the driving at our wee holiday house at Brittas Bay.
A slightly odd place. A development of new build holiday homes that were presumably built at the height of the boom to satisfy the aspirations of Dubliners who hadn’t quite geared up their debt by buying one house in Dublin.
This place is in good shape. It seems fully occupied and well maintained, which is a little more than can be said for the place across the road – one of many pieces of Unfinished Ireland dotted around. You see lots of them – developments that had barely started or were near completion when the bubble burst.
Anyway, only had time to pop to the shop in search of fuel for the woodburner but all I could get was some good old Irish turf – peat to you and me. Gulp.