Kissing the Blarney stone

Most of us slept well on a smooth crossing as the dolphins splashed around outside (no, really), and we awoke to see the Emerald Isle gliding into view. After rolling off the ferry, we treated ourselves to an early morning walking tour of Cork, which looked good in the early morning sunshine. Some protracted queuing later, we'd climbed the old winding stairs of Blarney Castle and were ready to kiss the Blarney Stone, one by one - it's awfully unhygienic but it does wonders for the gift of the gab, or so they say.

The Blarney Stone's up there somewhere (to be sure, etc.)

The gift of the gab proved handy when we got to Killarney, where the intended hostel turned out to be a bit of disaster; no reserved space for our group, and no parking either. But Helen took the bull by the horns, engaged Tourist Information in a spot of Blarnification and bagged us new digs in a fine independent hostel down the road in Kenmare, which proved an immediate hit. We ended the day with a pint at Florry Batts, which is an odd sort of name for a pub really but we weren't complaining!