Tipperary day 2:

Up and out and a myriad of monuments on the agenda. Con is organising the annual trip for the Royal Society of Antiquaries (or the Anti-Quarries as he saw them referred to once) and had a lot of things to recce.  We saw holy wells, rag trees, neolithic passage tombs, tiny Romanesque churches, a mighty tower house, the old school where Con’s ancestors had all taught and at one point were invited in for the most delicious scones and apple pie by a friend of Con’s. One of the most spectacular sights were these incredibly impressive high crosses, adrift in a field somewhere halfway up a mountain. The crosses are marvels, the workmanship extraordinary but I was bedazzled by the story of the local saint - St Clispeen* ( I think)  who married and had a wife who produced a child every single year! (Nothing to do with him of course!) He decided it was all getting too much and went off somewhere for 7 years to give everyone a break. When he returned his wife immediately became pregnant and gave birth to seven sons, one for each missed year! Clipseen was horrified and took the babies to the river to drown them (!)  whereupon a passing saint/angel told him to desist for each would grow up to be a holy man. There is an engraving of the seven saints on the foot of the cross. I may have lost the thread of the story here but Con went on to explain how Clispeen tried to curb his lust and test his saintliness by sleeping wedged between two round-breasted maidens! Now I’ve not been able to verify the story but I think he’s my new favourite saint. We had supper in Cahir and all tucked into Finola’s mighty portion of excellent pavlova (5 spoons). Wrecked
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* Edit: Not Clispeen at all but  St Scuithin! Now it all becomes clear!!