What a difference a day (and ten degrees) makes. After three weeks of wet, grey and cold, the sun finally came out. There is an Irish saying about April borrowing days from May, but I can’t remember any terrific warm, sunny days in April. I’ve also heard some say that the bad weather in May means that we will have a good summer. Fingers crossed. I tried to look up Michael Gallagher, the Donegal postman, who was famous for his accurate longterm weather predictions, but it seems that the man has retired.
Frankly, I nearly lost the will to go outside in the last weeks of May. Unless it was to drive to the airport and fly off to a country where the fog isn’t obliterating the landscape. Looking out the window was like peering into an illustration for a sword and sorcery novel. The mist totally covered the front field. It was easy to imagine a wizard riding out of the solid grey haze. Or a horde of orcs tumbling out of the wet fog to attack the house. Driving home from town, I could not see further than about 50 yards. Worse of all it was cold! Every meeting in the shops or pubs initiated a conversation about how dreadful the weather was. I found myself being consumed by envy for those who were away on holiday and tried not to snicker if it rained wherever they were – even though rain or shine it was warmer where they were than my little sodden cold patch of the planet.
So, it was with a great sense of gratefulness and answered prayers that we woke on the weekend to actual sunshine and blue skies. Not only that but the prediction for the next few days seemed unreal: Full sun and temperatures hitting 28C. We immediately made plans to go to the sauna on Red Strand and spend the rest of Sunday on the beach with fish and chips to celebrate. I also promised myself to get to the ocean any day that the weather remained good. After over thirty years of living in West Cork, I know the golden rule: Drop everything and head to the beach as soon as it looks like a fine summer day. If you don’t, you might miss the summer all together. I’ve been caught out many a time, staying in the house, working indoors (needs must), promising myself that I’ll get out asap; only to find that those fine days were the only ones we going to get…
So, beach blankets were found. Sea sandals slipped on. Water bottles filled and sunscreen forgotten, we headed out in a glorious blaze of blue skies and stone splitting sunshine. The sauna was for once, totally unnecessary, though very welcome. We use the sauna to convince ourselves to take off layers of clothes and go outside practically naked, perhaps to even take an icy dip in the Atlantic. This Sunday it was positively balmy. No need to get our core temperature up with the heated steam. It was just as warming to lie on the sand and soak up the rays. The scene was straight out of a holiday brochure – parasols and striped windbreaks, children building sandcastles, people lying reading books, or sleeping, dogs running happily amok. It was the Costa del Cork in all its glory. The slight breeze coming off the ocean cooled our sunburnt skin. The sound of the lapping waves lulled us to have a quick siesta, and the overall feeling was one of contentment and joy at the answer to our soggy prayers. If Met Eireann is to be believed summer will keep going for the week. Let’s hope it lasts into June and beyond.
As always, when we get the return of summer, I am totally seduced all over again. Like a cheating lover who appears on my doorstep bearing flowers, chocolates and champagne, I welcome West Cork back in my arms and revel in its embrace. Let’s face it, when we get the weather there are few places in the world that can compete with a West Cork beach. Looking out over the shining ocean, with Galley Head lighthouse in the distance and the promise of fish and chips down the road, I have to admit that it doesn’t often get any better. Viva La Costa del Sol!
