It was one of those Sundays when it was hardly worth getting out of bed. Grey skies gave way to rain, more rain,
and more grey skies.
I had intended going to the Oyster Festival in Carlingford, a pretty little seaside village about ten miles from where I live.
Back in the early '80s, the Oyster Festival was seen as a way of getting visitors to the village which had yet to make a name for itself as a heritage town. The gates of King John's Castle, an impressive Norman ruin, were thrown open for a disco and entertainment centred around drinking rather than food. After a few years, people living in the village found that the festival was more trouble than it was worth, with their sleep being disturbed by late night revellers.
The Oyster Festival has been revived in recent years, with the emphasis on food and fine dining. There would, I thought, be plenty of opportunity to get photographs for the PAD Food challenge at the various stalls selling oysters and fish chowder. But with grey skies and drizzling rain, I didn't fancy getting either myself or my camera wet, that idea was abandoned.
So, I embarked on Plan B and met a good friend for coffee and a chat in my favourite hang-out, the flower market.
We chatted about our boys, about how they are doing at school, and the cutbacks in the health service, before admiring all the beautiful plants and flowers. If the weather picks up later in the week I might go back down and buy some of the tempting plants for winter bedding.