A wee spin to the 6 counties and the Free State.

Don't ask.... Well since you have, one word....shite. Dropped my mobile in a bucket of cement last week. Phone still worked afterwards except for one minor thing....no sound! Bought a new one and dropped it on the first day cracking the screen as Curry's where I got it from didn't have any cases. New screen costs same as the new phone.....then I lost a remote fob and key for the wife's Mini and yesterday the sunroof glass on my Freelander , without any human input, just exploded into a million pieces......Other than that, everything's hunky fekkin dory even though my wife thinks I'm a fukkwit. Looking forward to your little trip. We were considering something like this in September but Germany pulled more. That breakfast looks "well fit" :okay

Oh dear. Still, things can only get better.
Enjoy Germany, I'm sure you will.
 
Great stuff, keep it coming - especially landscape photos, I’ll miss my trip over this year.
 
Saturday was about seeing some family members and going to my late father's derelict homestead.
It was grey but warm enough when I set off with no prospect of it getting any better.
I went through Belleek and Pettigoe to a townland called Tievemore.
Belleek and Pettigoe are both right on the border so have seen their fair share of battles/skirmishes over the years in the fight for independence.
A quick stop at the estate agents in Belleek - houses around here are incredibly cheap and it's a beautiful place to live. Sadly, my wife will not move here though Brexit almost tipped the balance in my favour.
 

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Last time I was here I bumped into a farmer and his working dog called Glen. At that time Glen had a huge, deep gash on his face where he'd come off second best in a brawl with a ram.
Beggar me if I didn't bump into the pair of then again. The farmer was a mine of information about the locality, previous generations of my family and the current landowners who bought the land of my dad's cousin when he became to ill to farm it.
 

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Poor Glen is only 6 years old. He's a working collie and he's already riddled with arthritis but lives permanently outside which breaks my heart. When we were chatting I made a lot of fuss of the dog and he really enjoyed it. I made my mind up when we lost our dog last October that we're not having any more, I just can't cope with it when they go, but Glen is haunting me. And he's still bearing the scar from his old wound.
 

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I saw what looked like an overgrown lane. The farmer, let's call him Padraig, told me it's known as 'The road to Doire', his late father (who's birthday it would have been on the day) told him it's part of an old road that used to run from Galway to Derry back in the day.
 

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I'm sorry about the orientation of the photos Comrades.
 
Just around the corner is what's left of my dad's old house, not much remains as you can see.
It's in the most wonderful setting, this really feels like home to me.
Myself and my dad had a sometimes fractured relationship but as I've got older I realise how much he gave up to ensure that myself and my sister never went without. He came from a properly poor family and used to walk to school 4 miles away with no shoes on, winter, spring, summer and autumn. I've always thought this was a bit of an exaggeration on my dad's part but Padraig told me that his dad did exactly the same thing. Despite both being born in 1935 and very close neighbours Padraig 's dad and mine went to different schools because of their respective religious backgrounds. Bragging rights to Padraig though as his dad had a 5 mile walk to school and back which might explain why he only started when he was 9 and finished before he was 12.
 

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I definitely didn't show my parents the gratitude they deserved when I was growing up, oh to have the chance to say something to them now.
My late mum's ashes are buried with her parents and her name is on their headstone but it's bothered me for some time that there's no marker, no physical recognition of dad's time here. When he died my mum had a small plaque (?) made and put it in her back garden. This passed to me when she died and it's been in my garden since then. I decided that it should be here, the place he loved the most so I pushed it into the edge of the grass verge (thank goodness for all the rain which made it easy)
Nobody will see it in such a remote spot but it's there and that's what matters. R.I.P. Colin and thanks for everything.
 

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Fair play to you Sir, I found that very moving indeed.

I obviously didn't know your Dad, but I'll raise a glass and quote you if I may.... RIP Colin.
 
This house is immediately opposite the field where my dad lived. I'd love to get hold of it and renovate it.
I'd been told previously that my dad was told the land his house was on was rightfully his when his uncle, who farmed it, died but turned it down so it could pass to his cousin, his uncle's son.
When his cousin became too poorly to farm the land dad was offered it again but once more turned it down so it could go to his cousin's family.
What I didn't know until this trip was that he'd also been the rightful heir to more land in the area which he gave up in favour of his cousin, including the house I'd been eyeing up.....
 

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Fair play to you Sir, I found that very moving indeed.

I obviously didn't know your Dad, but I'll raise a glass and quote you if I may.... RIP Colin.

That's very kind, thank you. :beerjug:
 
That part done (& that was the main reason for the trip) it was time to go and visit some relatives and relive some stories of days gone by.

My day took me past Lettercran R.C. church and the sad story of a devoted sister.
 

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All roads lead to Pettigoe and quite right too.
 

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And then Kesh. Just a stone's throw from a memorial to a Fenian.......
 

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