So. Free and easy, I took off to Limerick for a night or two with my favourite travelling partner. As we perambulated – STOP! – “i mbun spaisteoireachta”, we took in two major cultural sites, namely King John’s Castle and The Hunt Museum. Suffice to say that the simple experiences of being there gave me back my mojo. It’s not that I had stopped writing or anything, it’s just that I got caught up in the daily grind of work and forgot what writing does for the soul. When you step into King John’s Castle, you step into history. Admittedly, much of the information is filtered for ease of understanding (if you ask me) but it hit the spot. Imagine a place you could keep going back to and get a different perspective every time! Mega-inspiring!
The Hunt Museum was another of similar ilk. I never was one for museums but of late I can stand and stare with the best standers and starers [sic]! (Incidentally and speaking of “standers”, my wife tells a story of how on one of her solo childhood trips down to the local shop-cum-bar, the boss stood her a Coke and a bag of Taytos. She reported same with the classic line, “Larry standard me!” Love it!) Back to The Hunt, first we were greeted by horses outside , their rumps suitably adorned with the latexed handprints of said hip-hop pair. If that wasn’t enough fuel, the man behind reception silkily name checked Picasso, Gaugin and Renoir. Not that any of this meant much to us but it’s about the atmosphere there, you see. After depositing our unwieldy coats at the bottom of the stairs, we ventured upstairs and stepped back in time. The horses were still there when we exited but we had also gained some composure and a sense of meaning without fully realising or grasping it.
Now, it’s time to write again. TÓL