Kiss Me, I'm Irish!

(Day 17)
Spring might have been in the air, but after almost a month of travel, the only kisses I'd enjoyed were of the Hershey's variety and I'd had enough of it. So I made a date with an Irish spunk who promises a few seconds with him will turn you into a witty charmer with the gift of the gab - I went to pash the Blarney Stone.

Sadly the photo of me actually going in for the snog is both a) hideous and b) not scanned. Also, it kinds of looks like the guy who's holding me over the railing is copping a bit of a feel, which I assure you he wasn't, so the chances of it ever making its way onto the internet are slim to none. I can tell you all I remember is feeling a sickening sense of vertigo as I opened my eyes while leaning backwards over a railing several stories in the air, then it was all over and I probably spent more time wiping disinfectant gel over my face. (Seriously, have you heard the rumours about what they do to the stone after the castle closes for the night? Ewwwww.)

Then I was free to spend the rest of the day wandering around the castle grounds, taking "artistic" snaps like the one above. It was nice to be out of the city and enjoy the countryside, until I wandered into the rock garden (complete with hermit's cave and druidic sacrificial stone) which freaked me out no end and I had to leave.

So did I get the gift of the gab? Not sure. Did I really need encouragement to talk more? Um, probably not. But I will tell you this - my boyfriend is a way better kisser than the Blarney stone. (1,2,3 - awwww!)