Very attentive readers will remember that I took the family to Carlingford some time ago and the memory of the hideousness of that trip has stayed with the children, in particular.
For Mr. Waffle’s birthday, he and I decided to go off together for the day without the children and he suggested that we might go to Carlingford. We did and it was absolutely lovely.
Inspired by this, I decided to take the children there again. Knowing that Carlingford was a toxic brand in our household, I advertised it as a trip to see the mountains that inspired C.S. Lewis when he was writing the Narnia stories (quite true). As we approached Carlingford, the Mourne mountains dominated and I pointed to “the twin peaks of Archenland!”. Michael said coldly, “I think I’ve been here before and I didn’t like it.” Ah, magical. The car park was beside a playground and they all ran for it. It was my turn to be cold. I turned to Mr. Waffle and said, “I didn’t drive for an hour and a half to spend the afternoon in a playground beside the car park.”
We pushed on and walked up the side of Slieve Foy for a bit and back down. Herself was heroic, inventing some elaborate game which her brothers really enjoyed during our gentle walk (about an hour – the sun shone). The boys grudgingly agreed that it was not too bad.
And we had chips in the pub afterwards. What’s not to love?
