I have lived in Howth for almost two years. Sometimes I think that it can only be described as a sort of postcard, using cliché images and worn-out phrases, referring to the golden sunlight of the early evening, the windswept island in the distance which bears the name of Ireland’s Eye and which I can see from my window, the colourful seafront with pubs and cafés, the harbour with fishing boats and fishmongers’ shops, the piers.
As I prepare to leave Howth, in fact to take a break from packing my innumerable numbered boxes, I went for a walk along the longer of the two piers. The sea was as still as a lake and the water looked deep blue and almost as thick as oil. Ireland’s Eye was red in the distance, the small roofless church on its coast could be seen very clearly. A strange vision, as no other house has survived — or was ever built, I don’t know. I wonder who the church had been built for.
I have taken a number of photographs of Howth since I moved here. My favourite ones are collected here.
Tags: Howth, Ireland's Eye, photos
