When a man is tired of Stitchworts, he is tired of life…

Apologies to the great city of London (and Mr. Johnson). I’m sure it will be fine. It’s been knocking around for about two thousand years. But I wait for Stitchworts each Spring, and when they arrive, it’s a balm to the soul. Anyway, your botanical mileage may vary. The plants above are Rapeseed; a brassica family member, and they appear around the same time as Stitchworts, and when they dominate the landscape in huge swathes like this, they are very impressive. The aroma on a hot day is quite something too. Below are the Stitchworts, taken behind Leixlip Castle.

And here are a few more flowers for your delight…

Three runs again last week, and much the same as previous weeks. A couple of 5ks in the park on Tuesday and Thursday, and then a slightly longer one on Sunday morning. The weather was fine, and instead of trotting along by the canal, I chose to make my way through the village main street and up the Old Hill. I suspect many towns and villages have an ‘old hill’ or similar; a small road or pathway that has been superseded by a more modern alternative. In Leixlip, the Old Hill was the original route from Dublin to Galway. It proved a little too steep for horse-drawn carriages and a more contoured alternative was built around 1810. This short road witnessed a battle during the 1798 Rising, and a grim aftermath, when a rebel was hanged from a tree as a warning to others.

No grim discoveries on this fine Sunday morn, thankfully. I joined the Celbridge Road and soon was upon the site of our old home, which we left about twenty years ago. The old gate lodge was levelled, and in truth, it was about the kindest thing to do. But it was still quite a shock when I first discovered its demise last year.

I took a few pics of the new house. It looks very impressive indeed.

On towards Barnhall, and as I pass along the lane that leads to Castletown Demesne, I can hear there’s a rugby match in progress. Into the demesne and along by the Liffey. It’s busy enough with strollers, walkers, joggers and dog-owners. I reach the Celbridge Gate and turn back for home. At some point on the return, as I pass the ‘big house’, I realise I’m sweating quite a bit, and my mind wanders to the water’s edge a mile or two away. I wonder is it too soon to take a dip? Probably. Water takes a long time to heat up. In Ireland, the sea is warmest from August into September. Warm is a relative term, of course. But suffice to say, a few sunny days in April will do little to heat a large lake like Leixlip Reservoir. And it’s not a reservoir in the normal sense; it’s a dammed river, so there’s quite a throughput of water.

I had time to reconsider my plan, but regardless, I made my way down to the lake, knowing it was a pleasant enough detour which wouldn’t add much to the run. When you are out for a run and fancy a swim, the trick is not to delay, but jump straight in. Which is what I did. Reader, it was cold. Not bitterly so, but definitely we need to leave the immersion on for a little longer. It is the first swim of the year, though. Here’s to many more.

It all added up to about 11.6k or so. I’m not overdoing it. Hamstrings have been putting me on notice for over a month now. Since a rather nippy half-marathon on Paddy’s Day, to be precise. And with the plan to hit the 5k programme shortly, I am second-guessing myself. If they’re still a little tweaky when we hit May, I may postpone for a bit.

We had another gig on Saturday night, and as I walked into the bar, I spied two large golden number balloons: it was yet another sixtieth birthday party. What are the chances? Fortunately, nobody fell into the drum kit. On Sunday, I went into Dublin to see guitar virtuoso, Pierre Bensusan. What a performance.