Dingle Town

We arrived here last night, driving through the Connor Pass. It was not for the faint of heart and definitely not for the faint of heart during a driving rain — although one advantage of the driving rain was that we couldn't see the extent to which we were hanging off the side of a mountain.

All was forgiven when we reached John Benny's Pub, with its Guinness beef stew, Irish cider and traditional music (guitar and concertina played by a young woman who closed her eyes in rapture as her fingers slid across the keys).

Today dawned bright and clear, an Irish rarity, so we could see the Blasket Islands and even Skellig Michael off the Kerry Coast as we drove around Slea Head.

Beehive huts, ancient monasteries, baby lambs and so many facts from our tour guide Michael Collins that my fingers were flying just to take it all down.

Afterwards, lunch in the Strand upstairs tea room with a local vibe that felt like we'd gone back in time at least 50 years.

Dingle Town: Sign me up.