Here I am, here I remain
I’m going to hold back my final judgement until I’ve sat through the first Atlantic winter storm and deep freeze (it hit fifteen below last year and water pipes burst nilly willy), but tentatively: I like it out here. There’s a lot to enjoy about being out in the middle of nowhere on Ireland’s Atlantic coast after spending about four years stuck cheek and jowl with first my wife’s family and then my own family. There’s also stuff to dislike: After our first run into Sligo, I foresee our weekly shopping run turning into a major endeavour. A NASA-run outer space endeavour with a full-blown ground control and carefully choreographed space walks. Whew.
As big and bright as Rigel: No people. I’m a misanthrope. I’m a curmudgeon. I’m a crazy-bearded loner who habitually flinches away from the withering heat of the bright daystar. There are no gorram smokers to aggravate me, no idiot drunks to wake me up at three, four and five o’clock in the morning, and no family members trying to play backseat driver in my life. Those who are here have turned out to be unfailingly
Fuzzily bright and warm (Mira): The scenery. On one side of our house we have the glorious Dartry Mountains and [[Ben Bulben]] and on the other side a view across the waters clear to the Donegal coast and open Atlantic.
Gamma ray burst bright (stunning, but intermittent): The Beach. The beach at Cliffony Mullaghmore is just plain stunning. The downside is the hike: The beach is about half a mile as the crow files and over a mile as the wolf runs. Groan.
Comfortably warm (good ol’ Sol): Everyone else seems to be happy here, too. The peace and space is doing us all good.
Black as the interstellar void: Garrett doesn’t understand that we’ve moved and keeps asking for “home”.
Dark as a Bok Globule: The local shop is a fucking rip-off. Three euros for a bottle of coke? Four euros for a bag of chips. I can’t even recall the last time I was in a shop that didn’t have an EPOS system.
I’ll shut up now.