Rosslare to Kinsale to Croom

DAY 5 – August 7th

Our morning was filled with preparations for departure and the swapping out of our vehicle for a brand new Opel that was available at the Enterprise location in Rosslare. Mom went to Kelly’s hotel to pick up a couple of items she had seen the evening before and Ann came to see us off and get the keys to the house from us. Our objective today was Kinsale where we were to have dinner at Man Friday. We managed to find a parking spot in the center or this busy little town (right in front of the Garda station) and then wandered about through a few of the small shops that, for the most part, offered a variety of tourist-driven items. We were a bit early for dinner, so ended stopping at The Spaniard – a small, dark pub just up the street. Dinner at Man Friday saw more steak for George, one-half of a roasted duck for me, and a seafood platter for mom. Again, far more than we could comfortably consume. Our dinner reservation had been made for as early as possible in the evening in order that our arrival at The Old Rectory near Croom wouldn’t be too late. As it was, we made fairly good time and arrived just after 10:00 p.m. Our host was there to greet us and have a chat and a glass of wine before getting us all settled in our rooms. Our bedrooms were on the second floor – for George and I the same room that we had stayed in 4 years earlier – what I referred to as the “haunted room” - much to our hosts surprise – and then I relayed the events that had occurred when we’d stayed there before (the throwing of my camera to the floor in the middle of the night – while George’s right beside mine stayed in it’s place, of my pager – which I was using as an alarm clock- to the floor, every time I left the room, the “blowing” of the bedside lights when we were awoken in the night by sounds of something running across the floor near the end of the bed, etc.), in the house in general, lights coming on and off in the different floors, the dishwasher starting up by itself, pictures never staying straight, birds throwing themselves at the windows until they’d left them coated with feathers, and in some cases blood – I suppose, in effect, what you’d imagine in a house that had a couple hundred years of history in and around it’s walls. We went to bed wondering what would occur on this trip.