A porphyry keepsake
ATRIP to Ireland closed last week with an exhilarating visit to Lambay. The sea crossing was delightful and the castle quite as magical as I remembered it from a previous visit a few years ago. On that occasion, I had returned with a small piece of the island’s green porphyry as a keepsake. It was almost immediately lost to the children, however, who engorged it within the chaos of their toys. I never thought to see it again.
Enthusing about the trip on my return home, I was surprised to discover that the children— who have never set eyes on Lambay—knew exactly where I had been. Not only that, but one of them immediately produced the porphyry. I was astounded and inwardly wished that they could lay their hands on plimsolls, ballet bags and homework equally easily.
Catching up on news, I discovered that the family had been enjoying dramatic adventures of its own. A highlight during my absence was an accident with a water pistol. It apparently involved a sunbather in the Diana Memorial Fountain at Hyde Park and an attempt to create the effect of rain. The victim had been very goodhumoured, but I was deeply relieved to have missed the episode. JG