As I walked into Brighton Road, Mark Shannon, ever the professional, stopping in his tracks, looked at me for a minute, approached, shook my hand and said: “The last time you were here was for lunch with your lovely husband when we launched our own olive oil from Puglia, and that was 20 years ago.”
Having come across on the car ferry from Passage East to Ballyhack, getting closer to our destination, the roads grew more winding, the foliage lusher and the unusual and fascinating buildings we passed became more frequent. It seemed like we were searching for Brigadoon. Indeed, as we reached Fethard-on-Sea, on a day when the sun was low, the air warm and humid, it all felt like the idyllic mythical village, the houses pretty and quaint, unaffected by time, like a haven from reality.
When you see the general manager striding purposefully towards the restaurant, you know you’ve been spotted; the drums have been beating of a critic in their midst. At least we’d finished our main courses by then and, happily, there was no awkward Q&A with me fumbling around for non-committal answers like “it was interesting” or “what a lovely view” or “you’ve done a wonderful job on the decor”.
North by Northwest may sound like the old Alfred Hitchcock thriller but it was our bearing as we headed on our mission to two enchanting castles. With the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness rolling in, Ireland’s Hidden Heartlands, abounding in magnificent lakes, forest and mountain trails, not to mention boating on the Shannon, are perfect for a break.
I suppose this is really a love letter to Kinsale, a place I’ve been having an affair with since I was 18 years old. In comparison to Dublin then, Kinsale was exotic and romantic to a young girl on her first weekend away with a gang of pals. From its narrow streets to its history of the Spanish invasion in 1601, and the magnificent Italianate star-shaped Charles Fort, I was sold. Kinsale became a regular destination and has played a big part in my life.