This was a first. In a howling gale and horizontal rain we headed up the farm track in the car, went into the farmyard and did a u-turn and faced outwards at the side of the house. The tomb is in the field at the back of this house. So on with the coat and over to the door, ring the doorbell and ask is it ok to have a look at the old tomb of the lady who answered the door. No it's not, says she. Shit, said I to myself and not out loud. Ok, so re-strategise. Do you own the field?, I ask. Yes, says she. Do you mind me asking why you won't let us? (after all it's just over the fence there - to myself), I ask. Contamination, says she. Ah, I see, Covid? I ask. No, there's cattle in the field, says she. Oh, ok, says I, completely deflated. (In my mind – lady, have you any idea of the thousands of cattle and sheep that I've met in my sojourns into the Irish countryside in search of amazing megaliths like the one in your backyard?) But no, the weather had already demoralised us and this just topped a sense of impending shittiness. A most unfriendly experience.
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Posted by ryaner
Posted by greywether
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