Cradle to the grave

Another big day. I was up with the thrush/dove/bluetit/robin/chaffinch going strong outside the bedroom window at around 6.45am! Fed the cat, ate my porridge, brought Himself a cuppa in bed then sped off to East Cork for a rendezvous with Marie Brett and co for a joint recce of Lady's Well in the wonderfully named townland of Titeskin. If you remember Himself and I went a few weeks ago to do the first recce. I am taking a group there in June as part of an activity to do with Marie's current  exhibition The Hidden Mountain, The Fort & The Five Trees - scroll, down, I get a mention! About six of us gathered to discuss possible activates and all was good. It should be an interesting afternoon.

Coming home, the traffic had livened up and I got seriously lost in Midleton trying to find a coffee and sandwich, then had a horrendous time on the Dunkettle roundabout into Cork which is undergoing major expansion ,and nearly landed up in Dublin. By the time I had reached Drimoleague I was feeling distinctly light headed so stopped and had a quick walk I went up to the church to take another look at the astonishing stained glass panels. These date from the late 1950s and depict a shining exemplary Catholic life from the cradle to the grave. Do take a look at Finola's analysis  based on personal memories and experiences. She says quite rightly that it's like an old high cross, full of stories and allegories about how to live properly. The choices for young people are interesting - church or marriage, though the blokes are allowed a tractor. Things have changed but this remains a fascinating record of a moment in time.
Drimoleague remains colourful in the streets too.
Tomorrow I am doing nothing.