Metamorphoses

So the itching got the better of me.  We drove shakily down narrow lanes (keeptotheleftkeeptotheleftkeeptotheleft)  and drove through Kilbroney in a mizzle.  

From Cloch Mor we climbed the unmarked path to the top of Slieve Martin where from one second to the next the wind shifted the clouds and the sun spilt through and you could momentarily spot a sailing boat in a pool of light or the tiny coloured houses along the sea front at Warrenpoint or a flash of green mountain side before the white wall came down again.