A (very freaking) long way to Tipperary


This past weekend, JJ and I went up to the Country – hitherto known as the Little Chalet (which is neither little nor a chalet but there are lots of gnomes in the garden and it doesn’t look like a cottage so it makes perfect sense…)

We went for a walk with the puppies.

JJ: Hey Betty, let’s turn left here.

Me: Sure

After a little while.

Me: Oh, I don’t think we’ve come this far before. How fun.

JJ: Let’s go this way.

Me (seeing a sign to the Blowhole): The Blowhole. We’ve never been there. How fun.

After a little while.

Me: So, do you think it’s much further?

JJ: I shouldn’t think so. Oh look, a sign.

So we walked on. And so did the girls, whose wee legs are only a couple of inches long and even taking into account that their have four of them, it’s still a lot of work. And have I mentioned the mountains?

Me: JJ, you didn’t say there would be mountains to climb.

JJ: It’s not Mount Sinai.

See, I’ve climbed Mount Sinai so that exempts me from every climbing anything again – hills, stairs, a ladder.

We arrived at the Blowhole and it was lovely. A big hole, in amongst some old mine shafts, that gushes water when there’s been rain. And there’s been a lot of rain.

When it was time to head back, I said: “JJ, we can’t possibly go back the way we came. You know how I hate that.”

JJ ( a little weary): Yes, Betty. I know how you hate that.

Me: And there must be a short cut. I mean, we turned left, then left, which is virtually heading back home, right?

Cut to a dramatic reenactment on A Current Affair:

The trekkers didn’t tell anyone that they were heading out to the state forest, nor did they bring any water or food. They could have died from dehydration but we lucky enough to be caught in a minor hail storm and they were able to collect some water. They did, however, refrain from eating any of the local fungi, which is known for its hallucinogenic and deadly properties.

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