Sheep, Soccer, Donkeys, and Lambs

Not sure there's a difference between sheep and lambs — oh, lambs are sheep that are under a year old. They are also too young to be skittish, as we learned from our lamb profiteer the other day — and confirmed yesterday.

Today's post will start off with some movies. First up is the view on a walk from our house. 

Click the image to view video.

Next is a video from Fred yesterday. Farmer O'Connor and his son asked Fred to please move to the side of the road so as not to confuse the sheep who were being moved from one field to another. This scene is as Irish as they come. 

Click the image to view video.

And here's what I call "Sheep Symphony," but "Sheep Cacaphony" might be more apt. 

Click the image to view video.

Another couple of amusements:

Dishwashing liquid is called "Washing Up" liquid.

And pulp is called "bits."

Before we left, Fred emailed the second largest Irish newspaper, The Irish Independent, and told them about his work here, in case they found it interesting — which they did. The journalist called him for a 10 am scheduled chat yesterday. Fred thought it went very well since the conversation was sort of journalist to journalist, considering what Fred is doing. I've bookedmarked the paper's site hoping to see the article when it's posted. It will be in the Kerryman — a local section of The Independent. Here's how it looked:

Next up is a photo dump of a couple of long walks I took this day.

The beach at Kells Bay.

If you zoom in you can see the big plume of cut grass shooting up from the kid on the sit-down mower. 

A Rhode Island Red all the way across the pond!

Stunning colors.

Busiest day I've ever seen at the beach on Kells Bay.

And this is the beach seen from an overlook up on N70 — the route of the Ring of Kerry!

This sweet sweet lamb loved getting some love. They're always rubbing up against gates and walls and trees to scratch their backs, so I obliged. 

I can't really imagine their selling land for three thousand euros. That said, you can't build on it, so maybe that is all it's worth.

This scene has a Bermuda feel to it.

Lovely new-ish thatched roof home in Roads, just down from us. It's a summer home for some Europeans. I think Dutch.

That structure is a WWII bunker.

Talk about the black sheep of the family. This poor guy has ONE BLACK LEG.

A moment of repose.

Funny they would put this sign here since it's another mile or so out to where the road ends. 

I'd caption this "What a difference a day makes," but it could be a minute in these parts!

On our last night together with the kids, they treated us to a special dinner at one of Cahersiveen's finest. Quinn & Cooke's. We forgot to take photos :( :( :(   But did get some exteriors. The food and atmosphere was all perfection. Thanks, Owen and Hannah!

Fred across the street in front of the bar that shall not be mentioned.... 

This was a sweet back room of Q&C's — most likely the breakfast room because it's also a B&B.

Before the kids left, they took one last walk out onto the land... and I checked at one point to see if they were headed back, because I was not at the house either. Clearly they were still saying goodbye.

 
But then, a half hour later, this was a bit disconcerting!!!

And then a piece of my heart left the premises, on to new adventures in Ireland and, later, London. 

Two pieces really... with the third back home in Somerville.. 

On our first night alone, Fred and I went downtown to watch the English/Netherlands EuroCup match. At first we sat in a section where the tv was on the HORSE RACING channel, so we moved to the soccer tv section. One guy told us he (which we assumed was they, as in all the Irish) were rooting for England. I said, After ALL THEY DID TO YOU?  And he said, Yeah, sure. So we thought it was fine to cheer them on; we wanted them to win so Owen and Hannah would have the experience of watching the finals in London!  But we soon realized when the Netherlands scored first that we'd better zip it. That was very hard for Fred to do.  He gets excitable when watching soccer. When the kids played, one parent said to me, I hadn't realized Fred was coaching this year!  NOPE!!!! He wasn't, but he was offering some coaching advice apparently!

When Fred got up to pay the bill — just before we were about to enter overtime, which is two 15 minute halves, before possible penalty kicks, which we'd watch at home — England put one in with seconds to go. Nuts. So were acted despondent on the outside.  

Saturday will be a VERY big Irish football match  — Kerry vs. Armagh. Cannot wait for that. Up the Kingdom! as they say.

Fred looking very writerly.

A selfie to some folks at home rooting for the Netherlands.

The pub we were at — which had not only about four menu items, but one left of one, and two of another. Luckily we got fed.

The bartender was a young woman who didn't know how much Mi Wadi to put in my Guinness, so she let me keep it on the table. I have since found out that it is sweetened with ASPARTAME!  I thought I had found a miracle drink. Low cal (well, it still is that), low alcohol, and not too unhealthy.

Fred encouraged me to try a Murphy's which he and the waitress said was more mild but I disagreed. Nothing a dowsing of Mi Wadi couldn't fix.