So, yeah, here I am again. It has well been over a month since I last wrote. Between holidays and heat waves, there has been a serious lack of screen time in my life. It has been good for me, but I did miss the writing. I found myself composing blog post and articles in my mind, though rarely with a pen and paper or my phone to hand. Perhaps some of my musings will make it to the screen but most of it won’t. Nevertheless I have plenty of material for upcoming content. You just need to be a little bit patient with me, ok?
The boys are back at school already and although the weather is still scorching hot it feels as if summer is behind us. Books, bags and packed lunches have taken over from togs, towels and picnics. Lazy days have had to make way for routine and structure. Looking back, July was action packed and seems a long time ago.
There were wonderful beach days during our visit home to Ireland. All sorts of beaches – rocky, sandy, shelly, stoney – in all sorts of weather. One day that stands out from the rest is when we went for a quick walk on the pier at Skerries after a delicious seafood lunch in Stoop Your Head. The quick walk ended up being three hours down at the beach, climbing on rocks, padding in rock pools, digging wells in the sand and doing the things that happy childhoods are made of. No togs, no towels, nowhere better to be.
Then there were the windy, overcast beach days in the West. My hardy boys and I plunged into the cold Atlantic waters on a couple of occasions and lived to tell the tale. From splashing to surfing, we had a go at everything and even remembered to bring towels with us once or twice.
Then there were the days we didn’t go into the water at all, just watched it from afar. Like the day we cycled the Great Western Greenway and ate at the Mulranny Park Hotel.
Or our trip to Ardgillan Castle, where the car park has an unexpectedly awesome view of the sea and the children played catch and hide & seek like they were going out of fashion.
In between the east and west coasts we came upon a deserted petrol station. Like Mad Max meets the midlands. The Road from navan to Castlebar is one I hve travelled many times but I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Along a bumpy, windy stretch of road came the call from the back seat “I feel sick”. I pulled in at the first chance I got and let him out to … well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. Turning around we saw we had pulled in at a derelict service station. Saplings grew from the petrol pumps, some of which looked remarkably robot-like. Looking at their displays was like stepping back in time. The pound signs and mechanical workings making me feel old and very visiting emigrant-ish as I explained to the boys ho things used to be when I was their age.
Now we are back in Germany and life has returned to normal. We’ve been, we’ve done and we are counting the weeks till our next holiday.