Five do the Wild Atlantic Way

Travel

I’ve just arrived back to Castle Black (my house) after a fun-filled week travelling the south and west coasts of my glorious little country (Ireland, for anyone wondering. Which is why it can take as little as a week to drive around the whole south and west coasts). Sometime in January, my friend Eve and I were contemplating exploring the country we’ve been raised and in embarrassingly have never fully seen, and when my friend Katie in Scotland announced that she and her housemates were thinking of roadtripping around Ireland this summer, we jumped on that bandwagon in full roadtrip regalia.

Lucy and Kiera’s Summer Bray-cation

Travel, Visuals

Hello loves!

Today is a magnificent day. I am finished college forever and the sun is shining and later today my friend Ellen is hosting a Grown-Up Children’s Sports Day in her garden (sports will include sack races, egg-and-spoon races, obstacle courses and Competitive Hide-and-Seek, all with a fine smattering of jelly-shots and beer to keep the good-times rolling).

Yesterday, Lucy and I decided to go to Bray and walk around the headland to Greystones where we would cosy up at sundown with a falafel wrap at The Happy Pear. Unfortunately, and characteristically, all did not go completely according to plan. Somewhere along the walk a grey cloud smothered and burst over Greystones, and we found out, at 7.30 pm, that The Happy Pear closes at 6. So we walked just over halfway and then turned back to avoid what can only be described as a falafelless washout.

We did still get a bit wet, mind you. Luckily I had worn a beret to keep my head dry, though as many of you know, when wool gets wet it takes on an unattractive wet-dog scent, and in the end it didn’t prove to be much help. Still, such a weird mix of blazing sun and lashing rain would, I reminded Lucy, surely cause a beautiful rainbow to appear over the seaside town.

“I’m glad you’re such an optimist,” she said. But since I am known, among my closest friends, to be able to completely change my mood and go from Care Bear to Death Stare in less than five minutes, I said, “Yes. Nice of Optimistic Kiera to show her face today. We needed her.”

“Still plenty of time yet,” Lucy said, “for the other one to rear her ugly beret-ed head.” And we both chortled and continued on along the strand, wondering if the men pushing the big orange rowboats into the sea were trying to steal them of if they were the Bray Rowing Club.

I’d better go now; time stops for no man and all that. I have to get my eggs ready for the Sports Day races.

Have a lovely day, all. See you next time!

K. x

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A Parisian Affair

Travel

Bonjour chaps!

SO even though this little weekend escape happened way back in January I still thought it important to post it on the blog, partly because the pictures were too picturesque not to put anywhere and I’ve already exhausted my Instagram with Paris pictures. So voila, here you go.
The trip was a birthday surprise for Jack, who last went when he was a wee toddler and couldn’t remember anything about it except for loving Les Invalides, which sadly we didn’t make it to. I had already been twice and had done most of the most touristy things there are to do, but it didn’t stop us from moseying around the winding streets from the moment we left the apartment until after sundown, sparingly taking the Metro in a bid to see as much as possible in the four days.

Speaking of the apartment, we did REALLY well. We AirBNBed it (what else does anyone do these days?) and found a beautiful authentic poet’s apartment in Montmartre. I had insisted on staying in Montmartre because a) I’m difficult and b) it’s one of the known artists districts in Paris with the incredible Sacre Coeur overlooking basically the whole of central Paris. The apartment was on the top floor of a large, ornate block of apartments and it felt like you could see across the whole world out of the window, where the sunrise shone in and lit up the whole room. If you don’t like studio apartments, this wouldn’t be for you. The toilet, for example, was in the same room as the bed and in fact everything else. Not ideal, but at least I feel I know Jack a little better after that trip ;).

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If you wanna stay in this little gem of a place just click here. 

I won’t go into detail about our day to day activities in Paree because I’m sure you can guess the majority. We walked under the Eiffel Tower (we didn’t go up it because we couldn’t be bothered waiting for the queue to shorten and we wanted a crepe). We went to Place de Contrescarpe and basked in the delight of knowing Hemingway used to drink his coffee there (more me). We spent a lot of time in Le Marais because it’s possibly the best hangout spot in Paris, especially if you like quirky back-alley shops and falafel pittas. On this note, we did find a very recommendable drinks spot for all you night owls. If you like sitting on stools designed like Warhol’s Brillo Boxes in cosy cocktail bars disguised as laundromats, look no further than Lavomatic, your go-to speakeasy in Le Marais. You won’t be disappointed.

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One other thing which was a definite highlight to my trip was spending time at Shakespeare and Company, the original library belonging to Sylvia Beach and frequented by many of the big names of the Lost Generation (like Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and my beloved Hemingway). I could have sat in that typewriting room for the whole weekend, if only it had a little fridge stowed under one of the benches.

Now I will finish writing and leave you to the pictures. I am off to watch Midnight in Paris with Owen Wilson in it as a sort of #TakeMeBack, both to my trip and to the 1920’s.

Thanks for reading, as always, and lots of love,

KMB x

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On Top of the World: The Austrian Alps

Travel

Hey everyone! Welcome to the first real post on my shiny new website. I hope you’ve got a nice cup of coffee and are reading this from the comfort of an adequately squashy chair or a sun-drenched cafe. If you’re at your work desk or in a library having a sneaky read, I salute you and am sorry for your woes.

Sometime in January Jack invited me along on a ski trip to Lech, a little town in the Austrian Alps. “I can’t,” I said. “I’ll be broke and I’ll have my dissertations to write.” Needless to say shortly afterwards we were booking our flights to Zurich and it was all hands on deck re. trying to fish out matching ski socks.