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Glendalough Guided Walks
Beautiful Autumn scene at Glendalough on a tour with a lovely group of Australian ladies. The big red thing in the front of the picture is me, getting in the way of the lovely Autumn tree !
This is the entrance door to The Round Tower at Glendalough – but you won’t
be getting in easily, or at all ! The door is about seventeen feet above the ground ! !
And the Round Tower is a listed and protected National Heritage Building –
No Entry at all at all at all !
Enjoy these reviews and contact me on email@example.com or 087 2600548
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bits of news – some of it very odd ! ! Martin Swords
Thank you Alman 1958 for a really nice review – glad you enjoyed your
Glendalough Guided Walk (glendaloughguidedwalks.com)
Come back to Glendalough, or send your friends – I’ll look after them
A Letter From Glendalough
I’m walking along the Green Road in Glendalough, when I realize I’m thinking about eyelashes! Eyelashes on babies and infants – and women’s reactions to them. I remember bits of conversations where women I know have reacted to the baby infants of friends, commenting on their beautiful eyelashes. “You’ve no business having such beautiful eyelashes” I remember being said in reaction to a beautiful infant.
What is it about eyelashes that produce this reaction in women? What is this deep rooted primal response?
As a mere man I don’t understand. Perhaps it’s similar to a baby bird fluttering its wings to trigger a feeding response in a mother bird.
Some people would say I should be praying as I walk in the tranquil mystical setting of Glendalough.
In a way, this is what I am doing in remembering this.
Martin Swords August 2012
Hill of the white oak grove, beloved of Nelson’s fleet.
Victory left the valley folk burning faggots.
Lugduff & Poulaneass
Black Hole Mountain Brook, father of the two lakes.
Powerful force, a torrent in streams clothing.
Speaks to us in splashes now of the ice that spawned it.
Treacherous Pointed rock. Master view of lakes and valley,
luring unwary travelers to a sloping edge too far
Ton Le Gaoithe, Back To the Wind. Always the wind,
from every direction. Stick your head up proud high
over Wicklow. Many an Ice Age since you were warm.
manys the bitter blast a Phog Do Thon.
The Pass of the Oak Wood, nobly named in ages past before
the rape of ships and mineshafts
Once a village, proud, hardwon, hardmade.That was then.
Now even Broc himself finds life hard on this bare and
magic mystic valley cradled in its mountain arms