We awoke to an overcast morning, but no rain - and it was to
remain that way for the rest of the day.
After a light breakfast (and some baleful glares from Paddy) we left our
cozy cottage for Cork, again traversing some narrow roads on the way out to the
motorway. At one point we encountered a semi-trailer
coming towards us on a stretch of road hardly wide enough for a car, however he
realised that we had nowhere to go and backed up a short distance until there
was room for us to pass him. And it
seems that that’s how it works in Ireland.
On our arrival in Cork we left our car at a parking station
and set off on foot, across the river to the mighty St Fin Barre’s Cathedral, a
Gothic revival basilica completed as recently as 1879, although Christian use
of the site dates back to a 7th century monastery. We then walked to
the nearby Elizabeth Fort, built in the 17th century as a defensive
fortification outside the city walls.
While Elizabeth took stock, John did his best to separate the warring
parties and give comfort to the oppressed then, realising that we could not
stop people losing their heads, we left and made our way back across the river and
up the hill to St Anne’s Church, pausing to listen to a brass band performing
in a park as part of some sort of civic ceremony (as we spotted the mayor wearing
his mayoral chains).
St Anne’s Church is noted for its eight bells, the largest
of which weighs more than one and a half tons.
The clock on the bell tower is known as the “Four Faced Liar” because,
depending on the angle of viewing and the effects of the prevailing wind on the
clock hands, the time may not appear to be the same on all four faces. Very Irish.
We made our way back down the hill, passing a guard dog on
duty in a window overlooking the street, and had lunch at the English Cork
Markets (which, by the way, do not sell cork).
We resisted the irresistible chocolate displays and bought some apples
instead. Then back to our car and out of
town a bit to the old Cork City Gaol, where we received a fascinating insight
into the day-to-day life of those poor unfortunates, some as young as nine, who
were sentenced to terms of imprisonment, often with hard labour or the lash, for
such heinous crimes as stealing a set of bellows or picking a pocket (or two).
We then left this bustling city and drove just 40 kilometres
to Macroon and our home for the night.
Dinner at a nearby pub tonight and hopefully an early night.
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