In one sentence: don’t.

The kids get all enthusiastic about it, when you mention this mad idea, and it doesn’t seem all that mad at the time, on a Sunday afternoon in May, after a nice roast, and maybe a few glasses of wine too many, and you know that you won’t have the budget for a sun holiday for five in July, but you still want to give the kids a bit of summer holiday fun, something to remember when they are older, a break from YouCraft and MineTube, and you say “you know what? let’s go camping in Mayo this summer!” and they go “yeah!!!” and it all seems like a good idea.

At the time.

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Stage 1: you tell Mimi that we won’t be camping here after all.

She puts on The Face, quite confident that she’ll manage to change your mind.

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A lonesome fisherman is examining the poxitude of the weather conditions. He is in two minds about setting up his fishing rod.

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Stage 2: Let’s go an take a closer look at the camping conditions.

I’m initial feeling is somewhere between Not Optimistic and As Likely as Donald Trumpet Becoming President.

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Stage 3: Mimi has that smile. The one when she’s rather confident she will get her way in the end.

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Stage 4: Some more realistic members of the family head back for the car, and a relative state of dryness.

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Stage 5: It’s a blow for Mimi. She will not get her way. The weather really is too bad for camping. She turns on the waterworks. As if things were not wet enough already…

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Stage 6: Finn is only realising now that we will not be camping here tonight.

He is upset.

Poor little mite.

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Stage 7: Mrs mememe2U takes a walk to hide her relief and elation, now that she knows that we will not be camping here tonight.

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Stage 8: Finn takes his frustration out on the wet wet cold cold sand.

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Camping in North Mayo

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Before entering Westport, one has to address a silent prayer to Her Lady of the Wet Sheep, who in August 1896 turned rain into drizzle before the incredulous eyes of a (barely inebriated) Seamus Sweeney, who pledged there and then to build a monument in the honour of Her Lady. He eventually completed it once he sobered up.

In 1934.

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Another curiosity in Westport is Patrick The Wet Window Sills Worshiper.

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Luca thoroughly enjoyed his light lunch of soggy sliced pan

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And Mrs mememe2U indulged into a bit of spot-the-miserable-tourist entertainment

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There was no shortage of that…

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YMC

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Westport Bike Hire. Patrons please note that W.B.H. cannot be held responsible for the weather.

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Up Mayo! (but don’t forget the handbrake, just in case…)

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SMS: Honey, I think I’m going to be…

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The Style Council

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Sweets addict giving me the look…

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ireland, travel, tourism, shite weather, a splash of colour... quite literally

Westport – the shiny, cold, wet and colourful

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No shortage of activities!

Wet surfing
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Wet kiting

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Wet surfers-rincing

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Wet grazing

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Wet hood-holding

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Wet family-holidaying

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Damp twisty-roading

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Damp midges-feeding

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Damp smiling

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Wet lodging

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Drenched turf-cutting

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ireland, shite weather, tourism, travel

Achill – the wild, cold, wet and colourful

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No shortage of activities!

Wet jumping
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Wet walking

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Wet rusting

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Wet grazing

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Wet crater-gazing

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Damp smiling

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Damp letter-dropping

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Achill – the wild, cold, wet and monochromatic

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The darker zone on the cold cold wet-super wet metal bench?
It’s me, blocking some of that feeble feeble watered-milky shabby light painfully oozing through the rain clouds.

Today was most definitely not a day for camping.

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The not-quite-camping SP

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We may postpone the start of our camping holiday on the west coast by a day or two.

Or 250 million years, until the Gulf Stream has repositioned itself.

Tsk, camping… In Ireland… What was I thinking?!

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Second thoughts

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