Growth Spurt

It is very hard to believe that the teeny weeny cygnets of just a little while ago have become all grown up and are even showing a bit of white.

I could have spent the day just watching them and I get the feeling that they know how much they mean to me.

Here’s how they were looking this morning:

And, remember there was a time when they were like this:

What magic!

Coffee Days

The Happy Grind

Ireland has seen the growth of a wide variety of coffee haunts in recent years.

There was a time when it was almost impossible to get what I call proper coffee but now we are spoilt for choice and the names of the coffee places are great too.

The Happy Grind is my favourite name at present but I am always on the look out for competitors. Are there any interestingly named coffee places in your life?

Enhanced Colour

I am still on my hat-knitting fad and have been very surprised by the way in which my awareness of colour has become very much enhanced by the whole thing.

If I am knitting with lilac yarn, I seem to see lilac colours all around me in nature, not so much in non-natural settings.

My latest creation is multicoloured, as you can see:

While working on it, I kept seeing similar types of combinations out on my travels. This is one example:

And, I can’t resist yet another fairy door:

Yes, call me a mad hatter, if you want!

What’s in a Name?

Undoubtedly my favourite book as a child was one which Mother passed on to us. It had an off-white hardback cover and the heroine was called Roberta. She was the ultimate tomboy, just like me, and would only answer to Bobby.

The fairy door out the Anne Valley, with ‘Bobby’ on it always makes me think of the umpteen times I read that book and longed to be called Bobby. I had notions of calling a baby girl, if I ever had one, Bobby and certainly not Roberta. I wonder how that would have gone down!

The book is still with me but so well stashed away that I can’t quite remember where.

I’d love to meet the Bobby of the door creation. I imagine she has short curly fair hair, freckles and is wearing shorts, sandals and a raggedy T-Shirt in this weather. No doubt, she has a big dog and is part of a gang of young lads who admire her courage, daring and wild achievements.

Blogging Bad

I just want to apologise for my suspended animation in recent times. I feel like I have been absolutely unresponsive and silent in relation to replying to comments, reading posts and writing posts.

Strange how this blogging thing is all about momentum and one can so easily get into the ‘what’s another day …’ frame of mind.

All is good here and I hope with you too. We are at a bit of a Covid blockage in terms of reopening because of the rise of the Delta variant but Tramore is buzzing as people yearn to be by the sea.

I have been thinking a lot about you all, in spite of my silence, and it is fascinating how different bloggers pop into my mind depending on the circumstances.

Needless to say, Wimbledon, The Euros and Gaelic games are keeping me on my toes. Wimbledon beats them all, as always as tennis is so etched in my heart.

I truly hope you are feeling upbeat and I send lots of splashy hugs from Ireland’s sunny south east.

A DIfferent Kind of Sadness

A recent visit to the swan family revealed that one of the four cygnets was missing. I knew in my heart that the rest of the family would not have just left it but still lived in hope that maybe a miracle might happen. Alas, no, and the family is now reduced to three cygnets being very closely guarded by their ever devoted and vigilant parents:

Yesterday, it seemed like the parents were having a tete-a-tete as their babies waited patiently.

The scene had me thinking about the laws of the jungle and about the otters I have been seeing in the general vicinity of the swans. Maybe I am being harsh on the otters but I couldn’t but wonder at their size, power and speed.

The swan family with the three youngsters reminds me of our family all those years ago.

I am an absolute expert at dividing by 5 and by 3, as I have two sibs. Mother used to let us divide goodies from a very young age and then say: Which piece would you like? I fell for her question for years, always pointing to the biggest piece or the one with the extra strawberry on top. She would insist that I give that to one of the others.

Strange how the mind wanders off and finds its way to places that haven’t surfaced either ever before or for ages.

May the swan family stay safe and well and as beautiful as ever. I wonder how they are coping with their loss.

It’s an Ill Wind …

The Promenade here in Tramore has become extremely popular during the Covid period and the Bay has been buzzing with surfers for the last few months, especially.

This evening it was all a lot quieter because the weather had been iffy all day but the strong wind had brought out some wind-surfers who added extra colour to the scene that is ever-changing and divine in all weathers.

Tramore Bay, Co. Waterford

Every time I look out towards the horizon, I think of lines from John Keats’ Ode to the Sea:

Oh ye, who have your eyeballs vexed and tired,

Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;

-John Keats-

Sense of Place

Tramore has a new lingerie shop and I simply love the name:

Queen Street, Tramore, Co. Waterford

The Ladies’ Slip has been part of Tramore’s history for years and years and is one of the swimming places for changing and sunbathing.

It is part of the lore of the town at this point as men and women mix.

Here is how the Ladies’Slip was looking yesterday:

Ladies’ Slip, Tramore

I’m hoping that the new lingerie shop attracts lots of customers when our non-essential retail opens next Monday as Ireland takes yet another step out of the Lockdown that has been in place since the beginning of the year.


The little wooden bridges in Newtown Wood just outside Tramore had huge meaning for me and were a key feature even in the naming and inspiration for this blog.

Bridge of Dreams

As I told you in a fairly recent post, there was an outcry when it was announced that the wooden bridges, which were in need of repair, were to be replaced by steel ones.

Well, my heart sank the other day when I went to the wood to see the bluebells and found that the wooden bridges had been spirited away leaving the little stream without a crossing.

Back to Nature

It felt like a tooth had been extracted but at least the scene was still a natural one.

I simply don’t know how I will react if/when I come upon steel, especially if it is shiny.