The morning after the night in Thomas Connolly’s snug we felt a walk along Strandhill beach was needed.
With thoughts of the family secrets shared over pints of Rockshore, we needed time to breathe and the gentle lapping of the Atlantic soothed our dull headaches and brought us ease.
Limpets clung to rocks weaving in and out of the sand. The Atlantic waves washed in and out of us as we walked through the squishy sand.
Moving to a piece of firmer sand I could see the majestic sight of ben Bulben under a swirling grey sky bringing back memories of the past.
By Annette Brown
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