I came for the night – and stayed for life GREAT IRISH BOLT HOLES

In the latest instalment of this series celebrating a correspondent’s favourite getaway, Shane Doran makes the case for the charms of Inistioge.

I WOULD later fall in love with the scenery: the beautiful wooded hill walks and meandering Nore Valley with all its hidden secrets and ancient charms.

But the first thing that caught my eye was a beautifully poured and quite perfect pint of Guinness. So perfect it wasn’t long before a replacement arrived. And so on...

The company was also pretty good on that first night in Inistioge, a picturepostcard village deep in south Kilkenny which has provided the backdrop to a many a big budget movie down through the years.

The beauty of the place meant locals were well used to visitors and blow-ins like myself.

‘Another Dub?’ one asked as the pints and tall tales flowed.

‘No, Waterford,’ I replied, but before I had time to elaborate, my new circle of friends agreed this was ‘much worse’ as I was regaled with a venomous stack of hurling stats, most of which somehow managed to circle their way back to the Déise’s last All-Ireland in 1959.

There were four pubs in the village back then, and I’m pretty sure we managed to pay our respects to them all before calling it a night.

The following day, with a light head and fortified stomach after a very full Irish breakfast at the Woodstock Arms, I drank in the beauty of the place; the 18th-century designed village and square, medieval walled settlement pattern and steep hill rising up to the wonderful Woodstock Gardens with its sweeping views of the Nore Valley. A little laneway leading off one corner of the square leads you along a narrow tree-lined path just over the lip of the River Nore as it snakes its way towards the village and through its landmark 10-arch bridge.

This was 2015 – less than a month had passed before I bought a two-hundredyear-old stone cottage a few kilometres outside the village.

A bit like myself, it was in need of a good makeover and my new ‘bolthole’ soon became an all-consuming but thoroughly enjoyable obsession.

Back then it was a place for weekends and holidays and any excuse I could find to leave the city behind for a while.

Now the ‘bolthole’ is my full-time home. Slates have replaced the old tin roof, walls have been rebuilt, rooms restored to their former glory.

The owner has got greyer and a tad heavier, and the house is now home to a wife and three hairy children.

There are just three pubs in the village now but, pandemic permitting, the perfect pints and tall tales will be back soon.

Well worth a visit if you fancy getting lost for a few days.