car. plane. bus. bus. car.

Never hitchhike. Never take rides from strangers. Unless you have absolutely no other option in a small Northern Ireland town and it’s dark and the man works at the house you’re going to. We found ourselves in the middle of a tiny town at a bus stop after hours on the bus.  We walked into the store across the street and I asked the lady at the register if she knew how we could get to Murlough House. She gave us directions.  The guy talking to her said as we walked out the door for a long and scary walk, “Wanna lift?” We looked at each other and realized our options and said, “Yes. Please.”

So he put our stuff in his truck and we drove down winding roads to the house, which he called in advance to open the gate. We chatted a bit about this and that. Before we knew it we were walking into the manor.

The girl I’d spoken to on the phone, I’d later learn to be Evalina, brought us to Cynthia who brought us to our room and then showed us all over the house.  It’s wonderful and I like that we have to work a bit to maintain our keep. Dishes and the like.  I’m pretty much in love with it here and we’ve not been here all that long. 

Cynthia is pretty well in with Sharon Voss so we’ve got ourselves some pretty nice treatment going on. Can’t argue with that.

Tonight? Film with Cynthia. Tomorrow? Walk around the area. Beautiful here.

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2 thoughts on “car. plane. bus. bus. car.

  1. Hayley!!! I’ve enjoyed your bloggins. I’m super jealous of you, you know that, right? Anywho…have you asked any black people my question?? I’m serious, I would really like to know what they refer to themselves as in England. On a lighter note, bring me back something Irish! hehe. chao, love!

    -Mc

    • ASHLEY! Of what I’ve learned black people are called, “Black people” here. It’s all very clever. I almost asked one the other day, but got scared. But my cousins called them black people so…
      Somethin’ Irish, hey? So can I bring back me?

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