Last Friday was a scorcher, 28 degrees when Helen and I were mooching around Galway city. The sun splitting the stones on Shop Street, traditional music flowing from the open doors of the pubs and throngs of visitors enjoying the spectacle of the sun beaming down on old Eire. I found a high stool inContinueContinue reading “Change of seasons”
Fishy tales from the West of Ireland
Claretbumbler 