I’ve been cheating on you, my pretties. Whilst you thought I was here, slogging away at the computer, I was actually there, eating scones with clotted cream, drinking pots of tea, and walking about the Irish countryside.
You know all that stuff about how poetic the Irish are? It’s true. One rainy day, I asked an old codger how long a particular hike was, and he turned to me and said “How long is a piece of string?”
(The answer, as I found out after walking for two hours, is damn long.)
I got to see my husband down a pint, show my daughter the Book of Kells, and watch my son charm the local populace in two languages. (If the Irish for hello didn’t work, there’s always his signature “Hellloooo, ladies!”)
I watched my parents and MIL experience Ireland for the first time.
And saw a white horse upon a green hill. (A gray and brown horse too.)
I did a little tiny bit of research for my next book. I’d like to write it in this sweet cottage.
Failing that, if I ever make the best seller’s list I’ll celebrate by staying at this country home, which I didn’t discover until my last day of the trip. Anyone care to join me?