Downstream called me and so I walked early and briskly down the Irishtown and on to the riverside by way of Joyce's Lane to the Gashouse Bridge-then by way of a detour as the flood barriers extend across the bottom of the quay-on towards the former Kickham Barrack,and right after the lights towards the bus shelter and stop opposite Larry O Keefe's.
Thought I'd missed the bus because of my 'meander' but all was well.The X7 arrived some minutes later and I found myself sitting across from Maire 'a raibh aithne agam uirthi' and so 'thosaiomar ag caint' about the walkway and the joys of rambling along it's length even in it's unfinished state.
The'seanfhocal' says 'Giorraionn beirt bothar"-two shorten the road -and so it proved as the bus pulled over to the stop in Kilsheelin village.'D'fhag me slan ag Maire'crossed the road and made for the river on the left of Kilsheelin Bridge.There the spectre lay in waiting.He was engaged in pulling on his oils from the comfort of the bench, saw me out of the corner of his eye and hailed me with 'how're young fella'.That call alone has been the death of many a fella in a manner of speaking.Sean is a legend but as such can only be absorbed in small doses - the fruit of experience!
Had the track to myself for the first mile or so and was glad of that to listen to the wind, allow the ripple and flow of the river to enter my 'stream' and course from head to toe.That mile still green is the longest stretch of green remaining before the asphalt comes.I never tire of the expanding and multi-faceted landscapes it unveils itself as I ramble along.
author artist activist