Hope?

A day of turmoil across the water. Into the unknown. It seems a huge shame to me.

Too depressing really so I shall stick to holy wells. I ventured out to Carrigaline yesterday evening to attend the Jubilee of Mercy Pilgrimage to celebrate St John's Eve - once the pagan festival that ushered in Midsummer. It was quite an experience.  Before we had even set off the group of elderly ladies next to me were having an animated conversation about ladyboys: Oh yes, explained one knowledgeably, they wear women's clothes but underneath they have all the male appendages. Mercifully the pipe band started before the conversation could really get cracking! We were piped down a boreen (only slightly distracted by the kilts) to where the well lay in a shady grove. There were hundreds of people of all ages. Mass was said, the well was circled, the crosses scratched, the incense wafted, the midges bit and then everyone leapt towards the well to collect the water. It was quite difficult to get in and out and one lady had to be hoiked out getting a fit of giggles in the process. It was all very good natured and jovial in the warm evening sunlight.
One of the things about the original celebrations was bonfires and as we emerged from the woods the teenagers were in the next field with a large bonfire blazing. I was amazed at how many were burning on my way home. More about it in the New blog