Bandying About Bantry

We drove into the heart of Cork on our way to Bantry. It was a mistake. Cork must be named for the way each street is impenetrably stoppered. We squeaked by a bus so closely I could see the enlarged pores of the bus driver. (C,mon Ireland, exfoliate with all that extra rock you have lying around, geez)

It was late when we arrived in Bantry, dead dark. Google maps lead us nowhere near the lovely Irish cottage we had rented. After asking a couple locals, we finally found our way to the teeny weeny turnoff out of Ballylickey, down a dark tunnel of trees and to our lovely cottage.

These are spacious and modern cottages, and were very inexpensive

Bantry house was beautiful in the rain. It was built by a man who eventually became an Earl and is filled by furniture, tapestries and art from the 17th century on. One wing is still occupied by descendants of the original owner. I don't envy them their upkeep on the gorgeous crumbling place. 

The view of Bantry bay is magnificent, complete with cannons

The gardens are lovely, especially the long flights of stone steps leading up the hill to the brambly woods.

left to right, men: Keith Kennedy, Keith Brook, Mark Eddington
left to right women: Yvonne Kennedy, Carol Brook, Laraine Eddington

As I wandered through the garden, I secretly imagined I was wearing a puffy ruffled crinoline dress,  and a pretty bonnet tied with ribbons. I petulantly demanded my servants bring my tea and then sent it back because it was not hot enough. When the scones were presented, I sent them back because they didn't have enough currants. I also rejected the clotted cream because the clots weren't big enough. I think I could enjoy the bratty life.

Ireland has more peninsulas than you can shake your big old knobby walking stick at. We explored one called Sheepshead.

We drove a paved cow path, through tunnels of vegetation, interspersed with broad green hills, sheep, cattle, rocks and so much beauty it burned my eyes. Many times wild fuschia bushes  crowded the road. I think car mirrors are how they are trimmed back.

The heather is fading, but still so pretty

At the top of one hill there was a beautiful shrine with a copy of Michelangelo's Pieta. The inscription asked for prayers for a young man who had died. This is my favorite sculpture and finding it here so unexpectedly was a gift.

We ended the day at a hotel bar, searching for some Irish music, but alas were only rewarded with some excellent chips, a quick quipping waiter and a very tiny bottle of coke.