Walking the Driving Range

A walk on a Perfect Day

A couple of days ago I went to deliver a letter and got struck by a car. I was more or less unhurt, save for a bruised shoulder and a leg that still remains a tad stiff. It will be a few days before I can go back to the gym (you can’t work out on a bruised shoulder as it can worsen the injury), so for the most part I rested up and basically was as lazy and unproductive as the excuse of being thrown up on the bonnet of the car can give you. I did yoga, took pain killers, slept and ate, and today I went for a walk along the coast with Izabela, who took this tiny clip right here:

© I Titefka 2014

It was one of those perfect days, the sea sparkled like as though there were little bits of silver floating on the surface of it, and yes the air really was fresh and sweet and the grass was dry and the sun shone from a cloudless sky and though my leg hurt and my ankle ached and my back hurt almost as bad as my shoulder, it didn’t matter a damn and we sat on top of a small cliff and looked down on the waves and the diving sea birds who had this preternatural gift for riding incredibly high waves dangerously near the rocks and the waves clipping the little birds as they disappeared down and reappeared sometimes with a fish sometimes with nothing, and it was like something out of a dream and the area was  filled with other walkers and dogs (the people of Wicklow Town are huge animal lovers, the place is filled with Cats and Dogs, and birds, and shops selling animal feed and bird houses and seed bags – the town even has its own much adored pet bull seal called Sammy who is fed twice a day by the local fishmonger)and and tourists and students sitting out with sandwiches and we moved on down the coast for about half a mile onto the golf course and then you saw the putters and the drivers and we kept an eye out for seals but didn’t see any. We sat out on a high outcrop and I let my legs dangle over the cliff face (a very small one I might add) and the waves roared and grumbled and the golfers behind us went swish and crack and moved as if they had a purpose. We got thirsty and tired and went in a homeward direction and got into a load of trouble with the aforementioned grumpy golfers as we had to walk in front of their driving range. They started shouting   for us to move out of our way, which we didn’t, and they started simulating golf swings directed at us, which made us all the more stubborn and as we passed  the cranky golfers we commented loudly how golf just ruined a good walk – using the immortal words of Mark Twain. What a great day.  Annnd, here comes Wicklow Towns newest celebrity:

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