Bakker Bugle Blog

In June, Anita, Will and Will’s parents went to the village of Avoca during a trip around the mountains south of Dublin (in County Wicklow). We were looking for the famous shopping spot, Avoca Handweavers.

Thanks to JonasPhoto

Just outside the village (pictured above), we found a small group of white buildings that purported to be the oldest mills in Ireland. It was a lovely place, with flowers and running water all over. The “factory tour” was simply an open craft floor where you could wander among the machines at will! One crafter was using the flying shuttle loom and it was enthralling to watch — you too can watch with a few of our YouTube videos.

This was all pretty cool, and it made for a great afternoon. But it was not what we were seeking — we had been told of a larger, more shopping-oriented area, set in a former estate, with a world-famous cafe. This had a cafe, and some shopping — but not on the same scale as we thought.

Last Saturday, we found the right address and we visited the Avoca Handweavers shopping destination. It lived up to the hype. We had a delicious lunch in the beautiful setting of the Fern House Cafe, and the high-end shopping met our expectations. There were plenty of scarves, blankets, and clothes from Avoca’s mills. There were also lots of knick-knacks for the garden and kitchen. As you can imagine, the place was overrun with mother-daughter shopping trips and “ladies-who-lunch”.

After all that, I opted to follow through on my most testosterone-laden wish: to swim in the Irish Sea. The sun wasn’t out, and it was raining when we reached the Blue-Flag beach at Greystones. We walked around and considered the risks.

Finally, I said, “Now or never,” and changed into my swimming trunks. It took a little while to build the courage — perhaps some liquid courage would have helped — but I finally waded in. Then I contemplated the cold water around my knees for a while. And then I dove in.

It was pleasant enough, but thoroughly cold. Cold. Very very cold.