Ireland is possibly the only place in the world that I can expose skin on a beach and not be an object of ridicule, or of sheer amazement. Normally I’m on the beach with many layers, a hat, scarf and wellies.
This weekend was different. At no point did I wear sleeves. Not even in the late evening in our little
ice box oven on the hill. I was adding sunscreen instead of sweatshirts.
In the daytime, I was not the only person with translucent blue white skin braving the sea in Donegal. Without a wetsuit.
It was extraordinary. A catamaran was moored off the beach. In Fintra; not Florida.
We spent two days absorbing the sights, sounds and smells. Holding on to the heat. Capturing all the views.
The gentle, steady rumble and whoosh of the sea.
Giggles and squeals.
Warm sand. Teeny fish. A hot dog.
As for Sam, well, we happened across Ireland’s most famous sporting trophy, the Sam Maguire Cup as we drove to the beach. Donegal are the current champions, and all of the county clubs get the trophy at some point. For a small donation, passing strangers and Englishmen get to ooh and aaah and comment on its beauty and weight.
A weekend full of surprises and smiles.