It’s been such a moist summer in Galway, so much so that I’d almost lost hope of having a decent few days that didn’t feel like November. After two and a half weeks at home, I’d caught up on good quality cheese, saved a little money from my meager writing income, and spent some much-needed time with the family. I’d dismissed the possibility of sun back in Ireland to such an extent that I hesitated getting into the plane, trying to grab my last rays for the year. Little did I know I’d be slow cooking in the bus all the way back to Galway.
Of course, it only lasted a few days, but since I first saw Galway in the sun, the place has grown on me no end. We’ve been swimming in the sea (which froze extremities off for the first five minutes), walked down the sea front and sat around sunbathing on ‘Buckfast plaza’ (as the locals have rebranded the grass outside the Spanish Arch) with a bottle of wine.
And enjoying the sun, frankly, is pretty much all that’s been happening. That and producing articles like a machine, getting seriously itchy feet from all the travel pieces, and a slightly wild night out in Roisin Dubh. Though I do have an interview with the might Zero 7 coming up in a few days.
I need to get out more…