But first in this retirement blog, the predictable. This is why we do it – see attached photo. After the bustle and hustle of Limerick and Killarney, via Inch Strand beach, we arrive here at probably our favourite beach (and that’s saying a lot) near Ballyferriter, County Kerry. True it can be windy but on Saturday, as we settle in to our normal Ireland routine, it’s calm and sunny and, as you can see from attached photos, completely empty. What’s not to like?
That’s the usual part. But this whole trip, thus far, has been somewhat unusual given the extra week and all that has entailed. We’ve spent three days in a house near Mohill, County Leitrum, land of Mrs Summerhouse’s ancestors, then two night’s in a posh hotel near Galway. Then the interesting night at Travelodge in Limerick, a more typical night in a hotel in Killarney (a town beloved by Americans but only partially by us on account of its lack of dog-friendly pubs / bars).
Frankly it’s all very well eulogising about a life on the road, a la Jack Kerourac, but the reality is slightly less endearing. The reality is regular packing and unpacking and packing again of the Land Rover, things can go wrong. For example, I’ve lost my pyjama top and Mrs Summerhouse the whole set, that’s not normal. It’s a small vehicle, for all its apparent size from the outside, and every little thing has to be carefully carried to the vehicle (except the lost items) and placed in its allocated spot. After a while the glamour wears thin.
So, it’s with some relief that, we arrive at our usual house. There’s some debate whether we’ve been here 5 or 6 times, but it’s quite a few. For a person who said he didn’t like to go back to the same spot twice (as I told our man at the Blasket museum and he reminds me of it every time I show up to use the wi-fi connection) it’s a lot of times. In a country of some surprises, as I’ve mentioned before, it remains remarkably the same from year to year.
Except, this being Ireland, there’s always some little thing that surprises. This year we have visitors of the unplanned variety. So no, not the fact that we have our daughter and husband staying with us for a few days. To cut to the chase, we have baby birds nesting in the cooker hood (there’s an unmeshed entrance on the outside wall, nice and snug, particularly with the cooker on). Hard to believe but there it is, there they are. We can’t see them but we sure can hear them particularly at, what we assume, is feeding time.
It’s causing a bit of a moral dilemma. We don’t want to roast them with our cooking. Nor do we want some well-meaning farm-hand gassing them (shooting would not be an option) which is what we think would happen if we rang up and complained. On the other hand sharing a house with an uncounted number of squawking chicks, does have its downside. At this point in our stay, I wouldn’t want to predict the outcome.
All of the above with its twists and turns and straight parts of the road, does beg the question – what does a retired person, particularly one who writes a blog about being retired, want from a holiday? Do they want different experiences in order to be able to put them into print, or even just for the sheer excitement of new experiences in one’s old age? Or would a certain tranquillity be better for the mature mind and body. I think the likelihood is that, in Ireland, it will be the opposite of what you would like.
As we grow older retirement life continues to serve up its googlies (curve balls to my American readers). Usually when least expected. And you don’t get any bigger googly than my latest scheme. People think I’m slightly strange for planting a vineyard in North Yorkshire. Well, you think that’s weird, what about planting a vineyard in Ireland? Now that really is out of the ordinary. A search of the internet shows one vineyard near Cork but not much more. Search ‘Irish vineyard’ on Google and it seems to bring up wine-selling businesses at best and off-licences at worst. Not what I’m looking for.
But, what could be more of a challenge? What could make life super-interesting for the retired person, than planting a new vineyard in a part of Ireland that hasn’t seen vines since, well make that never seen vines, ever. It all came from a conversation with one of Mrs SH’s cousins about the impossibility of making a living out of farming. He has 63 acres of land and he can’t make it pay. So I thought, as we drove along, what about trying to plant say 1,000 vines in an experimental way on just one of those acres?
The idea grew like Topsy as we drove. You wouldn’t need the posts or the wires, at least not to begin with. You’d only need them if the vines grew well and knowing that they do would make further investment quite palatable. I hope you’re following my thinking here – not much investment up front.
Mrs SH’s cousin is a few years younger than us, says he enjoys growing things and has no intention of retiring, he likes things to do. So he could do all the hands on stuff while I provide the expertise developed by working on our Yorkshire vineyard and yes, a bit of financing as well. Yes, I’m sure you’d like to invest in the venture, who wouldn’t?
I know that these blogs, from the land of our fore fathers, run the risk of making Ireland sound like a stereotype, the one with the leprechauns and land of mists and Celtic legends. But I’m just reporting the facts. I’m not making it up to try and promote the myth of magical Ireland. I’m just telling it like it is. This is after all a retirement blog not a work of fiction.