Travel

I drove to Limerick for a hospital appointment and came home through Adare, which added an hour and solved nothing and was completely the right decision.

West Cork is a long drive from here – nearly four hours – but I've made it several times over the years, and three places in particular I keep thinking about.

Bríd had been telling me to go to Westport for two years. I'd been resisting on no very good grounds.

After years watching guests arrive with wheelie cases for two nights, I've learned what actually needs to come with you.

The cliffs were mostly fog. The village had three people in it by my count. I went anyway, and I'm glad I did.

Three hours from home and no cars to speak of. I've been four times now and I still can't fully explain what pulls me back.

The Valentia ferry takes about five minutes. You barely have time to zip your coat before you're there.

I took the train from Killarney to Cork to see Donal before Christmas. It takes two hours and twenty minutes. I'd forgotten how much I like trains.

Five nights in Dingle in November, and I barely saw another tourist. The harbour was quiet in a way that felt almost rude.

The Healy Pass in October, and not another car in either direction – which should have felt lonely but didn't, quite.

I drove to Kenmare on a Wednesday because I'd run out of stamps and because I wanted to, and those two reasons together felt sufficient.

I went to Schull for the drive, which is a thing I do sometimes, and came home with a book I hadn't heard of and didn't need.