Rossnowlagh beach (say Ross-ny-luh)
Whilst the rest of the UK and Ireland was basking in the 30 degree heatwave last weekend, Norn Iron and the North of Ireland were being lashed by a violent downpour carying severe weather warnings. It was so bad that small creatures could be seen lining up, two by two, looking for beardy blokes with arks.
So what do normal people do in this weather? Well, chose to take a weekend beach holiday with friends, that's what! Fur-lined hoods in August? Grand!
Togged up in my duvet-warm jacket and walking boots, we hit the beach, battling through loads of keen surfers. They obviously have goose grease coursing through their veins here, as they eagerly dived into the sea, trying to tame the icy-looking Atlantic waves, whilst we shivered on the shore.
The beachcombing for rubbish was great due to the weather churning everything up. (Bitter sweetness, as I would much prefer never to find any rubbish washed up.) I brought home loads of frayed rope and fishing debris that's now hanging in my garden being washed by further copious bouts of rain.
And beautiful jellyfish, too. I always want to scoop them up and put them back in the water. Sadly, most of them have normally been diced by passing ships etc. But this one was intact.
If you want to find out more about Rossnowlagh and its kooky surfing history, then visit the gallery at
www.irelandsurfari.com/galleryevent.html I've never seen such long beards on a board.
Even the seaweed pays its homage to the grandaddys of Irish surfing.
