1:3 Blarney Castle

I often find myself standing at the entrance to museums, castles, etc, contemplating the admission price:interest ratio. More often than not I decide the ratio is inverse and walk away. But seeing as everybody talks about Blarney Castle, and we had driven a long way to get there (even further than Tipperary), we decided to pay up and go in.

I was impressed. I would put Blarney Castle's admission price:interest ratio at 1:3, at least; and that's saying something, considering how much I dislike paying admission fees.


This castle is very, very good. Virtually nothing is cordoned off, and it has so many nooks and crannies that you could easily hide there overnight and make your ratio 1:6. I guess your money saved:hypothermia ratio might blow out a little.


Underneath the castle is a winding cave/tunnel that used to make up part of the dungeon. This tunnel goes on for 16 metres; it is completely unlit and cramped, but they still let you go in there. Unfortunately, we didn't bring a torch (it's pitch black in there) so I had to use Mum's camera to flash some light every few metres. I was feeling like quite the big man on campus; there was Shelley at the entrance to the cave, saying "Julian, Julian, come back, it's too dangerous, I love you so much", or something like that; me saying "No, no, I must push on". Then a tassel from my scarf brushed against my hand in the dark, and I went into the girliest flap I've ever done. This happened two more times, and I reacted in the same way both times. It was very dark.


Dad kissed the Blarney Stone, and ever since, he's been making incredibly eloquent speeches. Toasting this, toasting that; you can't stop him.