I'm a little late posting this. (Cough, cough, four days late, actually...)

Not as late as last month, though, so I'm going to pretend I'm not late at all, and it's 31 August all over again.

It has been quite a month. But again, a very good one. Superstitious me is starting to get worried... There has to be payback...

So what happened?

Well, the beginning of August was all warm and fuzzy, filled with continuing birthday celebrations and reunions with friends.





Then we set off for Swansea, where we binged on Dylan Thomas, and made the most of Mumbles and the Minster.

It was hot in England and Wales. We were spared the worst of it, as we were near the coast most of the time. But it has been an exceptional summer. Way too much of a good thing.



Two quite tiring travel days deposited us in Gorey, County Wexford, Ireland, where we realized we'd brought a Welsh dragon with us in the shape of what we think was covid. Gorey is an incredibly lovable little town, however, ideal for recuperation.

And, sure enough, soon we were getting out and about again, with double trips to the seaside, to Dublin, and to Enniscorthy.



Throughout the day-tripping, though, Gorey remained an awesome place to be based:




"Yesterday", however (30 August -- remember?), it was time to turn homewards. And five weeks after setting off, we were travelling to Belfast for an overnight stay, before heading back to the Island "today".


Settled though I am in our little spot, and convinced though I am (more and more so, actually) that we're in absolutely the right place for our current phase of life, I would still argue that it's not good to get TOO settled. We do need to be shaken up every now and again, and forced back into the mode that travel imposes (which we're actually quite good at): The mode that compels you to adapt, explore, find out, forage, improvise, make do, question, and (sometimes) just resign yourself.

So, long live travel. But also, long live this base that it has felt so good to return to.


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Poor Velvet Cushion... Never quite getting the attention it needs...

But apart from a very eclectic Book notes entry, all this month's reading has had some kind of travel connection:

-- The Beckoning Lady (Margery Allingham) and Thirty-Three Teeth (Colin Cotterill), both crime novels, worked well as journey companions and "recovery reads".

-- Alan Garner's surreal, sui generis, haunting, evocative Treacle Walker, meanwhile, features territory we travelled through last month on the way from Liverpool to Derbyshire. The Little Stranger, by Welsh author Sarah Waters, offers a brilliant twist on the haunted house story. And Quite Early One Morning is a beautiful collection of lyrical short pieces by the quintessentially Welsh Dylan Thomas.


-- First out of a pipeline that's currently clogged with brilliant Irish writing were The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien (totally wacky and really clever), and Nora Webster by Colm Toibin (an understated and moving account of bereavement).




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The mural at the top, by the way, is from Wexford. It's by an artist called Friz, and it depicts a local woman who reportedly learned from the fairies how to use different plants (including lots of lavender) to heal various ailments.

Purple healing. Sounds good to me...

So, the month ahead will be busy, as we catch up with all the things that didn't get done while we were away, enjoy the Island's multiplicity of September offerings -- and prepare to go away again.

The end of the month should find us back in England, en route for Sarawak, and I'm determined I'm going to get the Review of the Month OUT ON TIME!!