We rise at a respectable hour – I wander out to look at Nicholas’ thoroughbred colt – magnificent animal – takes an interest in me – head over the fence –what is in your pockets? - sniff all around – nothing? – here is a little nip to remind you not to forget something next time you come!
We are bundled into the back of Moira’s small Mercedes for the Whitty Clan tour – we visit the Whitty castles at Kilmore – the grave of Walter Whitty (1642) in the cemetery at Kilmore Quay – we visit the traditional lands of the Whitty’s – Graeme is forced to stand on the land and be photographed.
We lunch in the Whitford Hotel in Wexford – owned by Nicholas’ nephews and niece – meet and photograph Gerard Whitty.
We bid Nicholas and Moira farewell and we slowly and steadily head for Wicklow – the traffic is significant as people head back into Dublin after the long weekend.
Wicklow – not as sparkling as we remember it – its streets still narrow and pretty but its vitality seems to have waned – the Murrough where we once walked and walked and walked by the seaside is now a road construction site as the Tiger struggles to find a way to get larger and larger trucks down into the Port of Wicklow – progress? – probably not!
Mary greets us – this delightful lady is thrilled to see us – she has waited a long time to be able to return the hospitality that Bernie showed her and Anne when they visited Australia – she treats us to high afternoon tea – to an evening meal of the finest quality lamb – she is universally crowned “Queen of the Roast” – even Graeme concedes and seeks advice on the minutia of her approach to lamb preparation – her family have been summoned to meet the Australians and all duly arrive – brothers and sister-in-laws – a wonderful, close family who delight in each other’s company – the Irish are masters of the late night and we struggle to stay awake as they depart slightly after the midnight hour.
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