Juan Diego
Today we headed south to the Cliffs of Moher.
How idyllic
More flowers…
Looking the other way from the Cliffs
Us Patricians
Picnic lunch
Look! Some cliffs!
Some candid cliffs (this is what Daddy looks like most of the time; never trust a hoodie, huh?)
This is the YAWP I was sounding after obviously having conquered all of the cliffs, as I am wont
More magical Cliffs
And off into County Clare
I was honestly more excited for the Burren, which said something silly like it was Europe’s most interesting scenery. I mean, Europe’s fine and all, but I totally agree. I could hike this place for days—and maybe I will, someday.
Weird and wild, all limestone and scenery that changed from this to mossy woodland to meadow in the matter of a few paces, throwing us off with its trickery
I picked you some flowers
The Angels tried to persuade Daddy, but he was impervious to their fawnings
Understandably, that made us thirsty. So we headed to a pub just a stone’s throw from our place.
It was empty at O’Connor’s Famous Pub…
…until the music started!
We talked of many things, second-most importantly: what to name our car?
Juan Diego
Juan Diego. May you carry us into the sunset in safety. And without all those annoying bongs that you sound when I refuse to don my seatbelt. (We were going something like half a kilometre, I swear.)
Tomorrow I might post the fun it is to ‘drive’ on Ireland’s ‘roads.’
I wish I had an Alfa. Or hell, I’d settle for an M3. But Juan Diego is my destiny right now.