Lying in Lissadell.

There's an old log that lies rotting on the shore at Lissadell, right where the shingle meets the fields. It's lain there for as long as I've been holidaying in County Sligo and weeds grow up round it.

I like to take a few beers along when I go to sit on it on a summer evening, to smell the seaweed and listen to the curlews and lapwings and watch the oyster catchers on their long legs running on patches of wet sand.

After a while , especially if I'm tired, I shuffle on down to sit on the stones and rest my back on the decaying lump of tree and take long looks at the sky while I take long slugs from a bottle.

I'm not the only one who finds peace and rest at that old log. Dogs cock their legs at it too.