Vinnie, those windows will never fit!!
Just back from a great day out in the Castlefreke area on a well hunt - with my friend Hannah in tow, who rather usefully is a local. The wondrously named Castlefreke ( how I would love to be Lady Amanda Freke) is a massive Gothic pile in the middle of extensive woodlands close to the sea. The castle itself was burnt in 1910 and then gutted by a later owner. The latest Freke started a major restoration project a few years ago but I think they have hit problems and lack of money. Anyway, even I was put off by the massive No Trespassing notices so we contented ourselves with the wart well which is to be found deep in the woods. You must dip the afflicted finger in three times and on the third time the warts will disappear.
As we walked back through the woods we met a man walking his dogeen. We were looking at a ruined wall and he had all the information - once lived in by a woman who made poitín (an illegal and ferocious brew) and she would travel around the countryside on her sit-up-and-beg bicycle distributing bottles. She also kept a cock pheasant in the basket that would put off anyone not in the know! We inquired about holy wells and he told us about one that had recently been partly slabbed over but the holy water was now being used by a snail farm - yes - apparently the snails love the water and they get nice and plump and are then sent off to France where a less than pleasant fate awaits them.
Onwards to St James's well in Ardfield. The village was once well known as the home of the late and great Noel Redding, bassist in the Jimmy Hendrix Experience. I wonder if he ever sauntered down to the well.
The sun now shining we resisted frolicking on the beach but walked out along the headland to admire Our Lady's Well, right on the edge of a cliff, the soggy field full of primroses. This little house was one of several passed on the way.
A most delicious gourmet lunch ( celeriac fritters with sea spinach) in the Pilgrim's café (very apt) in Rosscarbery restored appetites and Himself managed to whip up a drawing . By this time the heavens had opened and we managed just one more well in the town - the rather forlorn little St Cummin's well at the gates of the Convent - full of memories for Hannah as she went to the convent school.
Back home in torrential rain, passing through several soggy groups of road bowlers. Phew.
And the film last night - Sing Street - was excellent. A coming of age film set in the 1980s, the teenagers escaping into their music - think Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, big shoulder pads and even bigger hair. Personally I prefer a bit of Jimi Hendrix Experience!
And it's Derelict Sunday - thanks to Rainie for doing the business.