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.

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

The comfort of familiarity


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