We are heading over to Ireland for a few days. My husband is from Galway, which means he has a large and lovely family up and down the west coast of Ireland. Lucky for me as we get to visit often and always have a place to stay. Though I prefer to stay with Nanny (E's maternal Grandmother) because with Nanny your guaranteed a good time and probably the best baking I've ever tasted. Her Apple Tart is divine and I'm sure people would kill for a morsel of toffee shortcake.
I really feel at home in Ireland, I suppose that it has something to do with how green it is. I don't mean a few fields or trees, I mean such a lush vibrant colour that you really can't imagine nature being more perfect.
I suppose when you grow up in a city or even the suburbs and don't drive getting out into the countryside isn't that easy. As much as I like the British countryside, thanks to my Dad endless excursions to where ever takes his fancy, the Irish country side feels different, almost magical. I don't know if its just me but there are places that are filled with memory, history or something unaccountable. When I was walking through the Fort of Agra in India, for a few seconds I could swear when I could hear the voices of history telling me the story of this incredible place. In Ireland you half expect to turn around and catch a glimpse of some myth walking in life. I get a similar feeling in Scotland, but different again. I can't explain it, perhaps its my crazy Romanticisms running away with me.