Jones spent days walking the hills following the movement of his four sheep. The sheep kept together and walked where the green grass took them and if there was a hard wind blowing in from the Atlantic they crouched behind a rock and let the air blow over them. Jones sat with them keeping himself warm against their wool.

The wind blew worst from over the Mizen and then as it drove through the gaps in the hills. Sometimes it blew so strong the sheep’s legs were blown from under them and if he stood up he could hold out his arms and lean into it as if he was learning to fly. Walking into it he could feel it flattening his cheeks and his ears filled with the sound of it. The grass lay flat across the hills as it blew over and as he bent down to shelter from its blast he could hear the noise of the grass moving against itself and if he closed his eyes he could feel the hill move under him and it would shake in the thick of it.

There were days when was it still and in summer the heat would suck the air and water out of the hills so they were dry and brittle to walk on.

He would not swim in the sea. But deep in pockets of ground in the hills brown lakes had filled in the land. They were thick with vegetation and weed but there were clear patches of water he could wade through his bare feet stirring up the mud.   He kept on his shirt as he swam his pale white legs kicking behind him. The water was cool in the sun. Afterwards he would sit by the side looking over the hills for his sheep. Bubbles rose and popped in the water from the layers of rotted vegetation and other things that formed the bed of the lake.

The hills and the green valleys that lay between had their names but all he knew of them was drawn from what he could see and smell. Some of the names had been forgotten when the people had died or the places had gone. As he walked the hills he still came across the places were the people had lived. They might only have been a scattering of stones on the ground, or a change in the colour and the thickness of the grass. But some of the houses were still standing with their roofs of earth intact. They had about them the smell of death and twice he found inside a pile of white bones held together by torn pieces of the clothes they had worn still lying where the people had died. He pulled those houses down pushing in the stones so no one else would have to come across the bodies.

Once those houses were down he went back to his walking and his mind turned more sharply to the colours in the air.

During lunch in Schull we were given a present of a half drunk bottle of white wine. We were down by the pier eating our way through three large helpings of scampi and chips. All morning it had been threatening to rain and on the drive over the top of Mount Gabriel had been shrouded in low cloud. We had walked slowly up the High Street, stopping in shops and buying books. I had been allowed a wistful look into the open door of Hackett’s. It was a new door. The old one must have suffered the consequences of too many years being barged open rather than having the handle turned. It was dark and inviting inside but we walked on for cups of coffee and hot chocolate in The Courtyard.

There was then more slow walking until we made our way down to the pier for lunch. There was a van with its back door open parked up near the door of the fish market. A scruffy heron stalked up to it looking out for scraps of fish.

It was busy and there was a queue to order so I slipped into the tackle shop next door to buy a new line, some feathers and a weight.

We had a bottle of rose with the scampi. We were finishing our first glass when a man walked up to the table holding a half bottle of wine.  He put it on the table. ‘ Here you have this. I’m too old to be finishing it now.’ He clapped a hand on my shoulder as I thanked him. I had kept the cork for the rose so that went on and we finished the white. It was still chilled.

Later that afternoon we took the boats out. Unexpectedly  I fould myself sailing a dinghy across the bay. There were a couple of near misses and I almost took a chunk out of Tommy’s boat as I tried to sail and negotiate the purchase of lobsters but I didn’t capsize.

That evening we finished off the rose and ate brill with a cream sauce, tomatoes and pasta.

Of course there was a certain stiffness in my back this morning. We can put that down to the gift of a half bottle of white wine.

Last year when we drove overnight across Ireland to the Cottage it was late August, it was cold and wet, great gobs of rain on the windscreen the whole way down. This year it was warm and dry and rather than rain it was white moths caught for a moment in the headlights of the car before either passing in the dark or splatting in quick dash of blood.

For the first two hours out of Dublin there was a heavy deep yellow moon in the sky in front of us in the West. It got bigger as it slipped down until it disappeared over the horizon.

There were hardly any cars on the road and from Bandon to Ahakista I only saw one lorry. As I drove the headlights caught at the eyes of foxes and rabbits by the side of the road.

There were pockets of thin mist in the lanes from Bandon. It would come up quickly as the road dipped and we were through it before I had a chance to register it was there.

Once we were passed Durrus I could see over my right shoulder a lightening in the dark horizon to the East as the sun started to nudge its way up the black sky turning it to a dark blue.

We were in bed and asleep before it was light and woke up four hours later to clear blue sky, a hot sun and still water.

But it was a Friday and Bantry market was on. I made a better fist of it than last year and had money in my pocket. The colours stood out clear and sharp in the sun. I was by myself and made my way quickly past the tractor seats and heavy work gear to the corner where the food stalls are.

The fish stall was there and had a whole tuna at the back that looked tempting but I kept myself short and bought a monkfish tail and a bag of bones for soup.

Well we are on the way but so far it has been an unsettling journey. Work was busy and I was conscious that I was leaving things behind. at least the desk was cleared and I managed to clear off most of the outstanding emails before they started to mount up again.

Then it was home and the rush to finish packing and the annual squeeze of everything into the car, making use for one of the few times a year, of all the space that a Volvo Estate has to offer. We left on time and despite the promises otherwise the traffic was not too bad until we were brought to a halt outside Bangor. There was no obvious reason why apart from the apparent need to give some grass cutters a break.

After twenty minutes we were on our way again. Pulling up to the ferry terminal I was asked why the illuminated signs all said ‘Next ferry 20.30’ and i had been reassuring every one we did need to be there until five to nine.

The explanation came quickly when i handed our ticket in and was told that our ferry had left 12 hours earlier that morning. I explained to the lady in the kiosk and she nodded her head in agreement as she wrote us out a new ticket. She then explained that all places in the Stenna Plus Lounge had gone but that was alright wasn’t it. The family howled in anguish behind me. there would be no comfy seats on the crossing.

On the ship we shifted seats trying to find somewhere we could sit together that wasn’t next to the cafe, a loo or a passageway and from where we could avoid having to watch/listen an endless run through of Madagascar III. We failed.

The good news is that I have left behind the USB lead for my camera so there will be limited opportunities for sharing pictures of bloodied fish. Hopefully some of will be disappointed at that news.

We are now halfway across the Irish Sea. I have eaten soggy chips and dried chicken. I am going take a swig of wine and try go to sleep listening to Lone Pigeon and the lady next door to us complaining again as the house of cards she is making collapses again. Looking forward to the four hour drive that starts at midnight. i do have the new Grant Hart CD to listen to though which I was able to pick up today although it does not come out proper until Monday!