I mentioned in passing the other day that we took ourselves off to the Cliffs of Moher last weekend. We charged up the iPod, gathered together an armful of CDs, got the car washed on the way out of the town (I do not understand the practise of getting the car washed before a long drive. Sure it's about to get utterly filthy again within minutes, non?) and then we were on our way.
It took about a bajillion hours to get there, but I did not mind in the slightest. I love going for drives, especially big long drives, especially when the weather's fine and I'm not doing the driving. One of my absolute favourite things is curling up in the passenger seat with my probably-too-big-for-my-head enormous sunglasses on, controlling the music selection and singing along to The Barenakedladies and other stuff I haven't listened to in maybe 10 years, chatting with Himself and looking out the window and thinking how incredibly gorgeous Ireland can be in the sunshine.
{Himself & the hound at O'Brien's Tower}
{this ledge is now fenced off & inaccessible, which I'm delighted about. some
of my scariest childhood memories involve being on a school tour with us all daring
each other to look over the edge down to the sea, *hundreds* of metres below}
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