The honeysuckle hedgerows did it for me all summer as I strolled the hilly lanes and backroads walking the pounds off me, enjoying the relaxed pace of Dún a Rí. I’ve been back home since mid-June and enjoyed every day of it. The glorious forest park has been the site of much soul-searching, calorie burning, chilling out and all round restoration. I can’t recall how many wishes I’ve made at the Wishing Well, but so far, some have come true and I’m feeling optimistic about the rest.
Having ten pubs within five minutes walk (nine of which you’d happily drink in, one that I wouldn’t set foot in unless I was reincarnated and came back as a Navan narco) is a plus and the social scene here is probably better than that in Tallaght (I’m genuinely serious). People are friendly and warm and have that unique Cavan wit that has you creased with laughter for an evening. It’s there in any bar you go into – Kingscourt locals perched beside pints dolling out some of the most classic humour you’ll ever hear.
But for all this, and maybe it’s an Irish thing – though you have all you need but still you find something to complain about. My phone signal is non-existent, and as for wifi, my house refuses to let as much as one line appear on the wifi symbol. You’d get more connection in a bunker in Kabul. Which is good, if you’re trying to avoid people, but how many people can you avoid by phone or email for three and a half months? If you are avoiding people that long, maybe you’d be better off in that no-go pub down the town.
So I’ve decided to move back up to the smoke, leaving Autumn to strip the place of it’s cover and get her in the mood for winter. I can no longer afford to trek down to Cabra Castle with my laptop in tow, to hijack their wifi, nice and all as their lunches are – my diet is showing no signs of progress. Maybe I’ve just had my fill of Cavan for now. Until next time, when maybe just maybe, I’ll find that connection.