Before I find my way to yet another stage of Life, I said goodbye to the current one and took a trip up, up, up North to where they ate black and white pudding. Who knew I would fall in love with these Georgian doors and austere windows? I was caught up in the sad past (and still on-going, somewhat) of Belfast, the quiet compactness of Dublin and the incredible peace of the coast.

You’d be equally bone-tired, as we struggle to visit each museum, while we stare goggle-eyed at the history, the culture, the forgotten and the remembered. You’d have a hot cup of tea with me, with cakes I can’t ever say no to. You’d be writing all these down in the perfect cursive handwriting I will never forget.