MB was free so took us on a drive; we went past Bono's house
- two decades ago he'd been living in a large but perfectly
normal house with a gate that was open all the time; now, as
he's become uber-famous, he's moved one town south to a
giant spread in Killiney invisible for its great wall on our
way to Powerscourt, the destination I'd suggested. This
important estate had been a burnt-out ruin when I'd visited
it before - the Slazenger family had restored it and held a
gala there, but on that very night it burned down, the cause
forever unknown, - but the gardens had been meticulously
tended and very beautiful. Now, the castle has been fully
restored, and it's turned into a flourishing enterprise,
entrance costing something like E7, and some of the property
having been sold off for a golf course and a Ritz-Carlton.

The gardens were not quite so carefully tended as before,
which is a little odd - but back then there was nothing for
the staff to do, I guess. They were still beautiful, and, as
it had lately rained, there was a guidebookful of mushrooms
for me to poke around and try not to be poisoned by.

In order to avoid this, lili and MB steered me in the
direction of the Avoca restaurant (on premises); the ladies
had various kinds of quiche, each of which come with three
serves of salad (lili chose carrot, tabbouleh, and tomato).
On seeing the size of the portions it was suggested that I
not order any food, but I had a bowl of celeriac and bacon
soup, which was fine but didn't have enough bacon in it.
This came with an enormous slice of brown multigrain bread,
whose saving grace was that it didn't have much salt. I
also shared lili's salads, which were made with good fresh
ingredients but made me think too much of Whole Foods.

The house wine was Chantefleur Rouge, which MB and I had
drunk much of together 30 years ago, and which I'd have liked
to have for old times' sake, but it was out. So another
forgettable Chilean Malbec was the order of the day.

Butler's dark chocolate from the gift shop made a nice
little dessert.

Back via Enya's home in Dalkey proper, a castle such as she
had apparently always dreamed of living in, so when she
became wealthy enough to buy one, she did. It's mostly
obscured by a wall, not surprisingly. The days when you
could just walk into one of these people's front yards and
maybe get to say hi to them as they pulled weeds is gone,
but even in my 30s and 40s we could do things like that.
It's a loss of innocence, and I can't figure out quite why
it happened - have people and the world changed that much?

On the way, home we passed a quaint little C of I church
that had a peculiarly large number of cars parked there,
given it was a weekday afternoon, something on which MB
remarked. It turned out that M had skipped out of work
and attended a funeral there - someone who had taught at
the school their sons had attended, and we'd unknowingly
crossed paths.

A nice dinner at home after drinks (Tahbilk Shiraz 2001)
followed by dessert on the deck (Avoca gingerbread).