Memories and comments

Strangford Lough from Nendrum Monastery, Co. Down.

That went quickly. In the blink of an eye almost. I have memories of greens and greys, of gentle rounded hills and low skies, of buttercups and crumbling ruins at sacred sites, of massed choirs of songbirds, of loughs and healing wells, mountains, rain and mist. It was only three days ago that I heard the haunting call of seals in the narrows where Strangford Lough meets the sea, and I remember the light effects of muted sunshine among the clouds.

I was in Northern Ireland for the whole time, so there is a jumble of memories too of the physical proofs of old enmities, of a sectarian parade and Union Jacks hanging from lampposts, of much warmth and friendliness, of that unique harsh-yet-tender accent, of busy town centres and chilling political murals and graffiti, of traffic jams and row upon row of red brick housing. Each time I visit I am always unsettled by these juxtapositions.

We had soft, warm Irish weather with the result that most of my photographs are studies in shades of grey, so there may be fewer on the blog than I had intended. There will be a post or two though once I get myself sorted, and I know I have a lot of blog reading to catch up on.

……

I want to say a particular thank you as well to everyone who commented on the previous post. At the airport on my return trip, on my own after four days of constant companionship, I had some time to kill after check-in and I suddenly started to feel lonely and overwhelmed at the prospect of the momentous (for me) decisions that are looming. So as a distraction I logged onto my emails at the internet café in the departure lounge. In amongst the usual correspondence and miscellaneous rubbish, up popped all the comments. They helped, they really did.

G wrote:

Comfort. Discomfort. I wonder where we get the idea that one is better than the other….

That stays with me as I unpack and tidy up in preparation for the estate agents’ visits.