Beaches

I have made a solemn vow that when the temperature reaches 60 degrees I will go for a swim. There are too many gorgeous beaches around here not to take the opportunity when it arises. I did actually see people swimming in Dublin in December and January, but the hypothermia song has convinced me that my doing so might be a bad idea. Aside from working on my golf swing (which Keith says looks more like a baseball swing), walking on the beach has been my main form of exercise. Yesterday Keith and I did 9 km at Curracloe Beach, which is where the opening scene of "Saving Private Ryan" was filmed. The beach itself reminded a bit of Cape Cod, although lacking the same sort of charm. Or maybe I was just feeling grumpy. The sun was shining, the sea was sparkling, racehorses were galloping in the sand, and Baz was frolicking in the waves. I mean, could it get any worse?

How about if we throw in an adorable baby seal? Keith and I were chatting and walking along when we saw Baz run up to investigate a shiny black trash bag, which promptly hissed and snarled at him. At this point we all realized out mistake; Baz kept his distance and Keith and I went for a closer look. Luckily mother was out hunting, so I got a decent photo out of the adventure. I think these little surprises are the best part of my trip here so far-- like when we met a distant cousin-in-law in a pub, or came across an ancient standing stone in a plowed field, or broke into a yew maze and got hopelessly lost. Not too shabby, I think.