Splendid, that’s the word to describe my day here in Killarney. The ladies were off touring the Ring of Kerry (ROK) which I did just last May, so I opted to hang in my happy place. This is my favourite town in all of Ireland. What did I do, you ask? Well, I chilled. I spent 2 hours strolling the National Park and explored areas I hadn’t seen before. I climbed hills, I walked along streams, I sat near lakes, and don’t tell anyone, but I may have peed in the woods. Had to, I was way too far from a public toilet.
The ROK tour was a resounding success and John was a great guide. It was really windy on the coast, but thankfully it was warm. By the sounds of it, there was lots seen, done...and eaten!
This evening I got to interact with some fellow guests here at the inn. They were olds...very olds. Now this B&B is in the upstairs of a bar. The key word here is UPSTAIRS. I realize that Tripadvisor may be well beyond the technological expertise of some oldsters, but who would book accommodations with the words ‘Bar and B&B’ in the name and then be surprised that there were stairs? I can tell you who...Harold and Betsy. Harold looks to be in his 80’s and I would guess is miserable by nature. Why would I guess that? Well, I happened to see him at breakfast this morning and he was quite curt with the chief cook slash bottle washer slash waitress. This woman does it all and does it well, but Harold was too cranky to appreciate it. Now I understand why. Harold is all around cranky because of all the stairs. When I came in this evening I headed up and encountered the 2 of them on the second set of stairs. Harold was moving one step at a time. Betsy was a set above him, and like all good wives, was patient and encouraging (?)...if saying “you better hurry up, there’s someone behind you” in a shrill American accent can be deemed either patient OR encouraging. I, of the patient and encouraging persuasion, on the other hand, said “oh don’t worry, I’m in no hurry”, when what I wanted to say was “get out of the effin way or I’m gonna wet my pants”. Anyway, Harold got to the second floor and stood by the breakfast room leaning against the wall, puffing like he’d just run a marathon. Betsy had left Harold in her dust and was at the top of the stairs continuing to encourage him...but only cause he had the room key and she wanted to get inside. I quickly got passed him, to the top of the stairs, and into my room before any accidents in my pants. Since Harold wasn’t lying in the stairwell when I went back down, I can only assume that he made it to his room as well. Good on ya, Harold!
Tomorrow is another day in my happy place. Can’t wait!
Oh...and in case you’re wondering...I spent all day on my own and had no food related mess incidents on my face! Yay!