Daisies at wall's end

It's hard to credit that it was a year ago today that I broke my wrist, thanks to the bicycle courier and his wrong-way-on-a-one-way-street shortcut. Thankfully, things are back to something approaching normality at this stage. Naturally I was conscious of the anniversary, but the day brushed any bad thoughts away really quickly.

At long last, the weather has taken a turn for the better, later getting to us than to out neighbours across the water. Yesterday was pleasant; today was better, though windy. After breakfast (more brunch, really) there was no question of staying cooped up in the house. It was Carl's idea to go to the Bull Wall for a brisk walk and a breath of sea air. It was windy, but still bright and sunny, and we weren't the only ones enjoying the sun. Far from it, indeed. Even though the tide was as far out as it could possibly be, some brave souls still traipsed their way to the water and splashed around in true seaside style. I got just a bit grumpy when I saw Dublin City Council's latest ugly addition to the wall-walk (I know the lifeguards have a better view from this elevated position overlooking the beach, but that still doesn't get away from the fact that this ugly monstrosity really spoils the experience and is totally out of place. Still, not everyone was as grumpy as I was. Lots of blipportunities came my way, and this blond-haired centre of attraction came close to being today's blip. That group was one of many congregated at the end of the Wall, huddled under the supports for the kitsch religious statue, but I was more interested in this bunch of daisies which had staked their claim to their own little patch near one of the floodlights which illuminate the statue during the hours of darkness.

Carl quickly tired of my blip stops, so we left Dollymount and moved on to Raheny. The weather was perfect for a leisurely bite to eat on the terrace outside Milino's restaurant. From there it was onward to Clontarf Castle for refreshments. We'd hoped they might have a beer garden, but the best they could offer was the smoking area near the Reception entrance. It was okay, and we had a long chat (not of our choosing) with an 89-yaer-old who reminisced at length about his experiences in France during the second World War and his personal connections with the former owners of the castle during its days as a private residence. I dropped Carl to the DART around 7.00 and came home to what turned into an orgy of music downloading.

A great day to end a really terrific weekend.