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Last night I watched the special 1970's thriller, The Changeling.
Ooooo, it's so scary.
So now I am in the mood to post my Ireland Wicklow Jail pictures.

When we went to Ireland we didn't spend time in the big cities
(i.e. Dublin or Belfast) but rather, we spent our time in the countryside around Wicklow County. That's "true Ireland" anyway, or that's what I hear. We rode around on the wrong side of the road in our lovely Peugot SUV and narrowly missed other cars on the one way (one lane!) roads. It was quite an experience.

My uncle and his family lived in Wicklow County in a castle when I was just a fetus inside my mother's body.
My parents went to visit them at this castle
and we drove around the town they used to live in.
It's so beautiful there! But I digress . . .

Wicklow Jail is really interesting. Very sad, and kind of morbid, but interesting nonetheless. The tour was entertaining. I know it sounds horrible to say that, but the tour guides dress up and act like the old jailers. They pass you off to other hidden actors within the jail. It's really dark and scary
and there are recordings of moaning throughout the stone walls.
At least I think they are recordings . . . Oooooo.

I had a grand time pretending to
be a poor woman
who tried to save her children's lives
by stealing a loaf of bed and
bitterly punished for her deed.
Marcus got wasted on the slow boat to Australia
(where they used to send prisoners)
and left for dead behind the bean sacks.
Stephen worked alongside the
captains at the table
where they ate their stew and talked of revolution.
So, as you see, I am not the only person in my family
with an imagination.