On The Beach At Bastardstown

Believe it or not, a real place, in Wexford. Very enjoyable evening with Slant in his wife's family's place; just for one night, a little break from our routines. I drove down in the afternoon and as soon as we arrived we took a wander along the beach with our cameras. It's an interesting shoreline, very weather-beaten with large chunks of the clay cliffs subsiding regularly into the rough seas, leaving fence-posts dangling and exposing oddly distinct bones of animals, such as a cow's skull and teeth, in the muddy cliff-walls. Tons of driftwood (and plastic/metal/glass), remains of bonfires, and further, in the near distance, a clot of seabirds swirling like flies. I kept half expecting to discover a cow's body rolling in the surf. A forsaken, dystopian place, yet also invigorating, bullish waves crashing at our feet in a riot of foam.

We walked quite far, stumbling over stones, mud and flotsam, then eventually turned back. Just in time, as it became evident that the tide was coming in fast, along with a belt of heavy rain that we could listen to in comfort as we entered the house and got ready to head out for our evening meal (a lovely lemon sole and chips in a nearby hotel, the only place left in the recession-hit village of Kilmore Quay).