Sunday

A splash of light from the late-afternoon sun lingered at the foot of Nariman's bed as he ended his nap and looked towards the clock.

This starter is an opening line from a four time Booker short lister. By the way, it was Anne Enright who told us about what happened in her grandmother's house the summer she was eight or nine in The Gathering, for which she won the Booker Prize in 2007.

Gorse and sea

We walked from Greystones fire station around Bray Head and back - about 8.5 km. It was another glorious day and there were lots of other Sunday walkers dressed as Sunday walkers do, in contrast to our hill walking, back packing practices. We were adorned with whistle and compass, booted and carrying rain gear. Their men were carrying children piggy-back, many of their women in pumps and tights, their dogs running free.

At one point, we sat high above railway tracks, near the Brandy Hole where smugglers did their thing all those years ago. We had a snack and watched fulmars and kittywakes glide up the cliff faces on the up-draughts from the sea where cormorants, shags and maybe guillemots (but perhaps razorbills) busied themselves on the flat water. 

Ten year old curiosity seemed satisfied after we discussed how a marina ended up in NAMA, using the purchase of a DS to illustrate how easy it is to suddenly owe 40 euro (or 40 million). His experience doesn't yet comprehend how hard he will have to work to pay these debts.