Smoochin’ the Stone (8/25 post)

[The internetz on our journey throughout the countryside has been pretty much hit-or-miss, with wifi specifically being miss. For example, I am currently sitting in a closet in the attic at Frank and Kay’s, the only spot in their house with service. So I typed these posts up previously and am uploading them now.]

Today I kissed the Blarney Stone, an Irish tradition said to bring the kisser the gift of “eloquence” (aka the ability to shittalk/schmooze). Well, I’m not sure if I’ve received eloquence, but I smooched the stone and just about peed my pants/ran away several times. Why, you ask? Because, despite my previous belief, the stone is not just chilling in some courtyard somewhere, but in fact five or six stories up on the parapet of the castle. To get there you have to go up all six (or five) stories in a super skinny stone spiral staircase (check out that alliteration!) which is SCARY. (At least for me, because I’m a ‘fraidycat.) Then, when you finally make it out onto the castle roof, you have to go around the parapet to the Blarney Stone. To kiss it, you have to sit on your butt and lean backwards out over the ground SIX STORIES DOWN. You can see the little people below. I don’t like it. You grab some bars and this worker dude holds on to you and you have to scooch upside down until you can reach it with your kisser. WHILE YOU HANG OVER THE EDGE OF A CASTLE! But I smooched it and I smooched it good. And then I immediately headed for solid ground.



Sidenote: My cousin Moira, when she lived in London, heard stories of local boys climbing the tower to pee on the stone (Bacot?). But at the time I was much more worried about death than pee. So hopefully that is just an urban legend.