One more breakfast in Northern Ireland before I go home. Today was beautiful, bright sunshine and cool winds. Pretty perfect. We walked around Lough Beg this afternoon, admired the carvings of fox, badger and stoat, watched a calf digging in a sandpit – a first for all of us – gazed at the view of Church Island, and read the extracts from Seamus Heaney’s poems.
A couple of weeks ago, my cousin Mary’s son Richard was doing the same walk with his wife. They saw two women who they took to be mother and daughter taking picnic of each other in front of the view. Richard asked if they would like him to take a picture of both them. They did. Afterwards the four chatted. The older woman was Marie Heaney, Seamus’ widow, and the younger their daughter Catherine.
This evening’s walk was also lovely, though for half of it I had the company of Joshua, Cousin’s twelve-year-old grandson, or the Incredible Whinge, as I was calling him by the time Cousin came to take him away from me and leave me and the dogs to enjoy our walk without constant complaints about how far we were walking and how long it was taking. I hadn’t made him come, and when we were barely out of sight of the house and he talked of turning back I should willingly have accompanied him and then resumed the walk on my own. I’ll know next time he says he’ll walk with me to run out of the house before he has his shoes on.
We met Poppy Junior, the gorgeous young retriever, on the way back. All dogs were excited. Westie Boy so far forgot his manners he tried to mount her. Fortunately he is neutered and she seemed to have no idea what he was attempting. Poppy the Labrador wagged her tail, greeted Poppy Junior’s young mistress. If we had had somewhere we could have let all three dogs off the lead to play it could have been wonderful. As it was there were a series of frustrated play bows.
Nearing home both dogs were a big hit with a field of young, knobbly kneed bullocks. Westie Boy was a bit shy at first, but after he had watched them crowding round Poppy like fans at a stage door, licking and sniffing her through the bars of the gate, he decided he too wanted some of the limelight. Westie Boy is still wearing his protective pyjamas. The men in the family, initially keen to remove them, seem to have got used to seeing him in them, and certainly himself isn’t bothered by them at all.
I am mainly packed, my clothes for tomorrow are in the wardrob; my keys, a clean mask, my passport, and my bus pass are in my shoulder bag. This time tomorrow I shall be preparing for bed at home and reunited with MasterB.
Stay safe. Keep well.