Falcarragh was busier than usual last weekend. The bars were buzzing in the evenings and there was music all weekend. Strange characters wandered about with blue makeup and swirly markings. The Evil Eye Festival was in full swing.
My sons and I played pool in the Shamrock whilst my wife took coffee in the visitors centre with a good book.
On Sunday a long walk to the beach gave Conor a chance to talk with the animals. ‘Bok bok’ got a favourable response from the hens, but his baaing sent the sheep into a frenzy as they herded together and advanced towards us menacingly. We stood our ground bravely trusting in the barbed wire fence.
Clare and Dr Dolittle walked the length of Falcarragh beach as Liam and I contemplated a dip in the Atlantic. Kayakers surfed the waves nearby sensibly attired in wetsuits. The foolhardy swimmers jumped about in the waves with trunks for warmth and tried to ride the big rollers for a bit. Once our skin had turned purple we knew that hypothermia wasn’t far away.
We watched a couple of movies on the laptop (Life of Pi and Promised Land) but the real joy of Donegal for me was the time we spent together as a family in the same room, eating together and just lazing about.
The plumbing was acting up and the house never really loses the smell of damp that creeps in during the wet and windy winter months; but somehow that all seems part of the experience. There was a Dutchmen with walking poles on the road back from the beach who looked familiar, but no Gabi and Joachim (friends of the family) this year. Their hospitality and Sachertorte were sorely missed.