It was a great day for sailing. It was also a great day for fuliminating and since sailing wasn't an option, anger won out. It all started innocously as I decided to walk to Three Rock Mountain. Suitably fed and coffeed, I headed towards Roche's Hill just after seven.
Under the blue skies, I struck up conversation with an elderly walker who was angry with the hard partying youth still going strong and loud in Killiney Hill. She wondered what their parents did since they didn't parent. She knew where youth lived and also wondered about their easy access to alcohol. I wondered if a casualty of equality is leadership?
I left her complaining about refuse collection not realising that some of her anger had infected me. I walked through Killiney Golf Course to my first irritation. Amidst the strangely melodious and satisfying sound of tee driven shots, blackbirds and thrushes singing, the roar of Harley Davidson rent the air. A long way off, I'd swear my jacket resonated. Then again, I must admit I've never understood the lure of the Harley.I reached Cornelscourt where the lack of pedestrian lights has been planned to force you to use the pedestrian bridge. It was occupied by a group of youths so wasted that they forgot to intimidate me. Not that I was any less worried by their oversight though I was annoyed at having no choice; I'd rather risk crossing the dual carraigeway.
