Day 5

Day 5: This morning we awoke in our exceedingly small but well-appointed rooms and the strictly manicured garden at Thornbrook House to a very formal and pleasing breakfast tended to by Mary. In addition to a partial Irish breakfast, we had preorderd porridge the night before and it did not disappoint most in our group. The steam rising off the bowls was so thick it was photographable.

Finally, we visited the Rock of Cashel. It was beautiful, wind whipping, and cold. Laura was disappointed that fields below (an most everywhere else) where she once watched sheep roam in from the high vantage point were now filled with cows. This has been a running joke with us. She screams SHEEEEP every time she sees a field full of them, which is not often at all. It seems to be all black and white cows cooling their heels amongst the bulrush and grasses. I told her that they must be having a shift in culinary tastes and tending more beef-producing cows reflects that.

Cashel is all grey rock and height, towering on a hill in a small city, and humbling in its sheer heft and splendor. It has artifacts from as early as the 9th century, and the original St. Patrick’s cross. Clare hopped over gravestones and whopped and hollered in the howling wind.

Deciding we were too cold and windlashed, we left Cashel for Blarney. We arrived at the White House in Blarney. Other than the strong damp smell in Lola and Eric’s room, it was a prime location overlooking the top of the Blarney Castle and a nice stay. We walked into the Market Green and on advice from our B&B proprietor Pat, we ate at the Muskerry Arms. Clare, currently being addicted to crunchy cod, polished off her plate, Lisa had her first Irish burger (Yum), Lola had a Curry, Eric had a crunchy chicken sandwich and Cindy had ham and butter sandwiches! She said it made her feel like a kid again. We joked that we feel like we’re moving from food to food here. Lisa compares it to moving from water hole to water hole in an unfamiliar territory, you don’t want to get too far away and risk not knowing where the next drink might come from.

Now stuffed and quenched and happy, we walked over to visit the shopping mecca of the Blarney Woollen Mills. As is the running trend here, the Woolen Mills was deserted of the crowds of previous years. That didn’t stop us from picking up some lovely articles of clothing and presents for a few folks.

After shopping to our hearts’ delight, we pillaged the local minimart for snacks to share on the picturesque veranda of The White House. Fortunately, as we sat out and tippled our wine and Murphy’s beers, we were visited by a very rare and ultra hilarious bird called a “Cindy Hawk”. Joke after joke caught Mom so hard that she devolved into a wheezing, screaming laugh so hard that the screeches threatened to explode her wine glass. After she (and we) recovered enough to breathe, Lisa resumed taking pictures of Irish clouds. Lola and Eric tippled the sweet white wine and cut the Brie. Clare finished off the day with a pile cheese and a Kit Kat, and we fought off the meat-eating bees for the last of the cold cuts. Bill, of course, drank his dinner.

Much to our surprise the next morning we saw previously overlooked signs on the back of our room doors that said “Please do not bring any take-away food onto these premises”. Oopsie.

téigh in éag (means: to end!)