Did I kiss the Blarney Stone?

I somehow missed a turn (a frequent occurence) as I found it a challenge watching the road, the other cars, AND the signposts - many of which were hidden behind trees.

The first big place I saw when I left Cork, was the Blarney Woollen Mills - so I turned in and parked in the huge car park (carefully making note, as I usually did, where I parked the car). As I was getting out of the car I noticed the sign post to the Castle, so I chose to head in that direction first.

A pleasant walk on a path which wended it's way through grassy areas and trees on the edge of a little brook. People obviously throw money into it - perhaps hoping it will bring luck, but it was odd to see so many coins at the bottom of the water. Here and there were little wooden bridges across the brook. It was very pretty and ever so peaceful.

We (there were others walking in the same direction) soon reached the castle and followed the signs to the entrance. Sure we had to pay, and we all lined up to enter the castle. Much of the castle is in ruins, but it is still safe to go up the stairs in one of the towers.

It was a long slow haul up to the top - going round and round, up and up. Some of the folk gave up - some getting dizzy with the height or pulling out because of arthritis or some other malady. I wasn't giving up, even though at times I was less than comfortable.

Sometimes we'd see into a room which might have been sleeping quarters or the kitchen, and we could see through the narrow "windows" the countryside below. Round and round, up and up.

When we reached the top, we inched our way along until it was our turn. I was warned NOT TO WEAR a skirt, and duly wore jeans. How glad I was. One sits down, then lays back, and with head outstretched behind, you could "kiss the Blarney stone." It is an experience I will choose never to repeat - even if I do make it back to Cork. It was not easy to get into that position, and to kiss a rock that heaven-knows-who has kissed before you (thank goodness for anti-bacterial wipes - which I used to wipe my lips afterwards!).

The man in the queue behind me was from Melbourne Australia, and we chatted along the way - had a few laughs, and I asked him to take my photo with my camera. (I'm unrecognisable - thank goodness!) There was a man helping us to get down to kiss the stone, and help us up. (I might have taken an hour without help!).

So, I've kissed the Blarney Stone. What is the significance? According to tradition, if one kisses the Blarney Stone, it "confers the gift of eloquence on all who kiss it." Well, I was never short for words before hand - and don't know if things have changed.

I'm glad I did it - and glad I have my free photo to prove it (they do have a cameraman on hand, but I didn't think it was worth paying for - anyway had my own!)

Would I do it again? No way!