Tramore, apocalypse now?

Dreamt of a colossal ruined garden and building complex that was like a forbidden overgrown city. Something built by a wealthy Victorian industrialist with 3 sons, who all did their own thing, gambling whoring etc so it was forgotten and abundantly overcome with leafy abounding but struck about were it's bold righteous robust brutal architecture. An old lady - wife, or perhaps a daughter, lived in the habitations still. An industrial landscape and an artist who came to love this tumbled down ravaged world, but knew there had been some forgotten significance to it building. And it had it's own zenlike radioactive charm; Tensor radiation. In other words I dreamt I was being irradiated by a vast post apocalyptic wasteland with an old woman creeping about the ruins!

Departing Tramore for Waterford I pay four euros for an espresso too far; be gone vampires.

Dropped a little way before the Bus Stop to quickly look about the town; aware of its Viking origins and before departing at ten for a local feeding while Sean Egan Art Glass/heritage glass blowing; good blowing! The weather is more coastal and the breeze brisk yet humidly still sat between. Off we go to Cork.