Disclaimer: This document is for entertainment only and is not intended to instruct or educate anyone about anything. If you choose to emulate the stupid things I do you are on your own, and I take no responsibility for the consequences of your actions.

Trip Report:

I awoke from a sleep so deep that I had to think for a few minutes before I remembered that I was in a B&B somewhere in Connemara. After dressing I stepped outside to discover a brilliant morning.

The owner of the Bed and Breakfast informed me that it would take her a few minutes to prepare the breakfast part of the deal, so she suggested that I have a walk about town while I waited. However, she insisted that the first picture I take be of the sunflower on her front porch.

I'm guessing that sunflowers aren't very easy to grow in Connemara because she was exceptionally proud of this scrappy little specimen.

The town of Roundstone displayed hints of loveliness when I drove through it in the dark the night before so I decided to explore a little.

The road into town was separated from the calm, glimmering sea by nothing more than shrubs or a stone wall.

The combined effects of a good night's sleep, brilliant sunlight and cool morning air made me think that this must have been the loveliest town in Ireland on that particular day.

I took a stroll on to the ancient looking stone pier.

At the end of the pier there was a local chap fishing. I knew he was local because he was wearing the traditional Irish attire of a soccer jersey and Bono jeans.

Back at the beginning of the pier were three English folk "borrowing" one of the local boats to go and fetch their own, which had come untied and drifted off into the brambles. I asked if they thought it would be warm enough for a swim later on and they informed me that they had already had a swim in the North Atlantic at dawn. What a bunch of studs!

I walked further into town and past a pile of the local bevel of choice: peat briquettes.

Near what seemed to be the center of town there was a tomcat going about his morning business of slaying birds.

That was about as close as he got before a pedestrian came by and scared the bird away.

He was a fairly nice kitty. I wasn't sure if the chunk missing out of his ear meant he had been tagged as fixed or if it was from tangling with other cats.

This is the view across the bay from where the kitty was.

At this point I decided to walk back to the B&B to check on breakfast.

Sure enough it was ready and I eagerly consumed my second proper Irish breakfast of this trip, this one with black and white pudding, which is what they call some delicious cured mixture of blood, barley and innards. Scrumptuous!