Castletownbere, West Cork to stock up on groceries and order our mid-week take-away dinner of haddock and chips for me and pizza for hubby.
During the time we spend waiting for our dinners to be cooked we usually take a long walk along the quayside where the fishing trawlers are docked. (Even though I grew up in the fishing village of Ringsend, Dublin, my knowledge of sea faring terminology is zilch, so apologies to any fishermen reading this!
Each time I'm close to these great monsters I think of the brave men aboard them who brave the wild seas every day to bring to our tables our favourite sea foods. When I'm not in sight of them I suppose, like a lot of people, I take it for granted that the fish just arrive in the chip shops and on the butchers' and supermarkets' shelves and never give much thought either to the risk to life involved with each catch.
The fishing paraphernalia, on the right, brings back memories of my days on the slip-way in Ringsend. Rowing boats, fishing nets and those cages that I guess shell fish are caught in would all be lined up along the slip wall but it's the combined smells of fish and seaweed that will always hold the greatest memories of my early life by the sea.
FEEL FREE TO COMMENT