Day Eighteen – Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Blarney

Accommodation – The White House B&B

Weather – sunny with overcast patches

Temperature – low twenties

We set off for Blarney Castle after over-indulging (yet again) on a B&B breakfast.  Another guest told us he took two hours to kiss the stone the other day as a cruise ship had visited via the port of Cobh.  Fortunately, we arrived early as the B&B is situated only 500 metres from the castle.

The beautiful gardens in the castle's grounds with Blarney Castle in the distance.

Blarney Castle.  The stone is on the other side at the top.

The castle was built in 1446 by Cormac MacCarthy and is surrounded by wonderful green lawns and picturesque gardens.  Queen Elizabeth I coined the expression:  “This is Blarney.  What he says he never means” as the chieftain MacCarthy was refusing to be persuaded by the English queen to accept English authority.

It was quite exciting entering the castle to visit one of Ireland’s iconic tourist attractions.  The steps up are steep and quite narrow and they eventually lead up to the top of the castle where an attendant helps you down on your bottom and leans you backwards and downwards to kiss the stone.  I would share a photo with you of me kissing the stone however David took a delightful shot up my nostrils and having been bequeathed the Taylor nose I will be deleting it!

You wouldn't want to have a back problem!

We explored the Poison Garden which is set out quite formally as gardens would have been centuries ago.  Each plant had a guide as to the nature of the poison and symptoms to look for if ingested. 

The Poison Garden.....lovely even with that name!

The next stop was the Blarney Woollen Mill which is the largest tourist shop in Ireland.  It was quite impressive as the quality of the goods was terrific – woollen goods including rugs, Aran knits, scarves and hats as well as Waterford crystal, Irish linen, china and clothing. 

Outside the store we spoke to a couple who came from the same village as David’s grandfather (Ludlow)...small world!  The woman asked me of my heritage and I explained that my ancestors go back to the 1880s in England and Scotland and 1840 in Ireland so I really had no relatives in either of the countries.  She then asked if I was going to stay over there…..’huh?’, I thought. “Yes, I think I’ll stay there!” I replied.

Our B&B host advised us not to take the car into Cork (fifteen minutes away) as the parking was a problem so we took the bus to the Cork terminus.  St Patricks Street was nearby and this lead down to the English Market which apparently is very famous (Queen Elizabeth visited last year) but I’d never heard of it.  It comprises of many food stalls – butchers, bakers, fishmongers, cafes, fruiterers etc.  It was time for a bite to eat so we squeezed into a tiny café with delicious home-made treats.

Our next visit was so much fun!  We crossed the River Lee to see the famous landmark of St Anne’s.  For five euro each we were permitted to climb up narrow stairs with a rope handrail to the bell tower, clock and parapet overlooking Cork.  We were even allowed to ring the bells……we chose Frere Jacques but I’m not sure that it sounded like it even after two goes!!!  We had to wear ear muffs as we went passed the eight bells to the top of the tower in case they were going to be rung by other tourists.

No, I wasn't jumping up and down clinging to ropes!  It's a matter of simply pulling the rope and reading the numbers from the sheet on the side.

I asked the attendant if the locals of Shandon complained about the noise of the bells to which he replied that they hadn’t today!

The church bells first rang in 1752.

The high tower also has a large clock with four faces which was installed in 1847.  It is known as the Four Faced Liar as the four faces of the clock rarely show the same time except on the hour.  An inscription reads:  Passenger measure your time for time is a measure of your being.

The Four Faced Liar and bell tower of St Anne's.

We had no firken idea either.....this is the old Butter Exchange and a firken is a butter barrel.  This building is now a dance studio.

The evening was spent at the Blarney Hotel with a large and noisy crowd.  Tonight we managed to stay until the band started and we watched a set of eight dancers perform Irish jigs.  I’d need an oxygen mask after one dance but they seemed to go on forever and none of them were spring chickens.  They were one dancer short so some unlucky ones including some Australians filled in and provided some hilarious times.

A fun day all round!