A little morning shower, then sun so the view out my parlor window is all green and blue with puffs and streaks of white clouds. Pretty as it gets.

Jason and Kat want a walk to the village, and I’m with them. It’s warm enough I can go with a vest rather than a jacket. I realize, damn it, I forgot my Fitbit. Kat points out now it’s like I’m not walking at all.

Feels good anyway, and we’re heading down the steep street for some shopping. We never get quite enough! Kat’s after wool, and I’m after whatever catches my eye–still in gift mode. We do well, all around, start back up for some of the other shops–might as well hit them all again. The newish one-Lily’s, I think it’s called–has a little pottery dish in blue. It’s small, and has appealed to me every time I’ve gone in. That’s for me, and will sit somewhere in my living room and remind me of Cong and the shop and the pretty shopkeeper.

Up the street, around the corner, into another. I buy a wool cap my oldest granddaughter will either think lame or adorable. And there Kat spots the shopkeeper has Shadow Spell on her little counter. I’m ridiculously thrilled by this. Someone right in Cong is reading a book I set in Cong and around it.

When we comment, she asks if we’re reading it, too. I tell her I wrote it, and we have a nice, happy chat. She’s enjoying it, likes reading about her own home, and says the woods are indeed magic there, and I found it. I’m wonderfully pleased.

If that’s not happy enough, we backtrack a bit as I want more sodas for the room. Into a deli/butcher shop where the woman behind the counter is bright and cheerful, all but singing as we talk. She spies the ring I’m wearing, and oohs over it, wants a closer look. She loves sparkly things, she tells us. She’s a magpie. I have to laugh as I often say the same about myself. So I tell her I know: Oh, it’s shiny! I must have it for my nest.

We talk awhile–where we’re from, where we’re staying and so on. It comes out we’ve been before, and I say when J&K were with us last time we were younger then.

The butcher comes out, just as bright and cheerful. Ah, we were all younger just yesterday. It’s a happy shop, one I’d frequent regularly if I lived in the village.

We go on up, veer into the abbey where men are working on the stone.

It’s a good walk, down and back, productive, fun. When Ashford comes into view, we see two men, high, high up, an extension ladder braced against a high tower. One’s already up on it, and the other starts the climb.

You couldn’t pay me enough!

Jason tells me how he once caught on fire up a ladder in a theater replacing a light. It’s a story a mother doesn’t want to hear until well after the fact. Up the ladder, and the lamp he’s screwing in starts getting warm. He uses his shirt to protect his hand, and as he does, the shirt starts smoking. Then there’s some flame with it. Says he thinks: Huh, I’m on fire. So he’s thumping at his shirt up there, heading down. Just a smallish burn hole in the shirt, he tells me, and he kept it a long while to remind himself not to do the stupid.

The gang is going on the boat trip around Corrib, and I’m giving that a pass. Odds are I’d be sick, so why chance it. And it gives me time to work. It’s so pretty out! A good day to be on the water. At one point, I thought I’d rather be sitting on the chaise in the bedroom with someone else’s book, but I stick with it.

It’s nice to be away in my head to frigid January in NYC, dealing with murder, then look out at the sun and the blue.

When I’m done, I take my tablet over to a chair, sit to check my mail. Seconds later BW walks in. Perfect timing.

They had a brilliant time. He swears the ride was smooth as silk and I’d’ve handled it. That’s a big maybe, and in any case I got solid work in. They have entertainment on the boat, a man playing the Irish accordian–who did the same in the film The Quiet Man. He plays, he sings, he tells jokes. BW loved it.

When we meet up for dinner in The Dungeon, Kat has a brochure on the island where they stopped and walked about. There’s an ogham stone I would have liked to see, a graveyard, and ruins.

She tells me the ride was mostly smooth, though there was a rocky patch in there.

I go for the bellini again–lovely–and we have a fine dinner. Still, there’s dessert. This time we split only two between us, as we’re pretty full up. The berries are so fresh I’m surprised they don’t pop.

An early night as now BW isn’t feeling quite the thing.

But he’s off to breakfast now, much better after a good night’s sleep. And the sun’s bright and pretty over the water. It’s the horses we’re after today, and we’ll have a ride this afternoon. A workout for me first, as other than the walk to the village and back, I mostly sat on my arse all day.

Nora