Dot writes: pedantry is in my blood. It brings me a curious mixture of pleasure and pain; pain at the trivial things I spot that are gratuitously wrong; pleasure at knowing how they should be righted; pain again at realising I’m an insufferable smartie-pants. Have a look at the following picture, taken in the Irish National Heritage Park last Thursday, and see if you can spot what’s wrong in the cell of the fibreglass early celtic monk:
Did you get it? It’s the tonsure, of course. That’s a Roman tonsure, that is! Fortunately the monastery reconstruction was one of the last things we saw on our visit, after the stone age settlement, the dolmen, the cross small boy, the cafe, the shop, the crannog, the Viking boatyard, the cross smaller boy who didn’t want to leave the Viking boatyard, and a few other things. It was a beautiful day.
I’d been wanting to go to the Heritage Park for a while, and Mum’s visit was a good excuse to take such a long trip (all the way down to Wexford, pretty much). But oddly enough we had an even more successful outing (from the point of view of pleasing the children) the day before to theNational Garden Exhibition Centre. Forget about costumed guides, thatching or clinker-built hulls: what my boys really love is cast-iron garden ornaments, climbing frames, and lots of water features to dabble in.