Up at 7.30 this morning. After getting up at 2.50am to shut Mark’s bathroom window, which was causing his door to rattle. The tinnitus has subsided somewhat today, it having been raging since one of Shazza’s shrieks during Articulate two days ago. Wiseman has been a little deaf on one side as well, but I haven’t seen him yet this morning to discover if it’s coming back. Rumour has it he’s gone for a run, but there’s no sign of him on the beach.
Shazza apart, it’s so quiet here. And dark. When the lights go out, it’s really really dark. Probably helps that we’re the only inhabited cottage for some way.
Broon has been up since very early, baking a cake and some biscuits. Not a bad person to have on a self-catering holiday, Broon. Cake and biscuits today, and she’s slated to mastermind the roast tomorrow night.
Gillian looks entirely unperturbed this morning. I fear she may not have heard the mouse. Enquiries draw a blank. Wiseman has not heard the mouse either. Everyone thinks I’m imagining it.
I have a scar on my ribs this morning which I’m not imagining. Wiseman attacked me with a teatowel yesterday, and I’m putting it down to that. I did, however, retaliate with a sweet flick to his forearm, which drew blood in quite a satisfying way.
Wiseman has been getting into the spirit of doing things differently, and has switched from taking his tea black with no sugar, to milk and two. Not sure this is entirely the kind of switch one should be making.
Had a quality grilled breakfast today, and then set off on an epic road trip to Malin Head – the most northerly point in Ireland.
“I’ve lost about three inches off my spine” complained Wiseman as we were driving along another bumpy road. “And at my age, I didn’t have too much to play with to begin with.”
I hit another bump at speed.
“Make that three and a half. It’s no wonder there’s so many leprechauns here.”
Weather was brilliant again today – cold, but clear blue skies and sunny. Last two days now have been perfect autumnal weather.
As a place to go to get away from it all, Donegal in the autumn is hard to beat, so it is.