Just back from a few days in Ireland. Won’t bore you with all the photos, but this is a special secret place we discovered whilst looking for somewhere to squat (in the bladder sense).
An abandoned house. Abandoned not too long ago, by the look of things; the building was structurally fine and in the garden, brambles were still just building up strength for the rampage.
I scrambled through the gateway, followed the overgrown path to the porch and turned around. I expected a decent view, but this…
can you imagine opening your curtains to this of a morning?
I couldn’t get close enough to look in the windows, see what state the inside was in. I love abandoned houses: their potential; the latent promises. When we reached the next village, I bought a lottery ticket. I didn’t win.
This was round the corner from the cottage. We happened to be there when Cork hedgerows were at their finest. There were three main staples – red fuchsia, orange montbretia and a lipstick-pink rambling rose. Sometimes all three tussled for the sunlight and attention; here the roses absolutely won.