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Now, that’s an Irish summer I can identify with.
No sweating. No risk of losing the sunglasses. No fiddling with bottles of sunscreen. No wondering if I look daft in those flipflops. No ice-cream melting faster than you can lick it. No overcrowded beaches.

No hope. No harm.
Just another false alarm.

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art, dublin, dun laoghaire, global warming my arse, ireland, monkstown, monochrome, photography, tourism, travel

The comfort of familiarity

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