Paul D'alton on returning to Ireland and conquering the highs and lows of life
IT’S easy for us Irish to wallow in nostalgia, to indulge in sentimentality.
But as the autumn sun set over Slieve Bawn, in Co. Roscommon last week, turning the ‘White Mountain’ a rich hew of scarlet and gold, I stood on my own piece of land, with a beer in my hand, and truly experienced an almost visceral, physical feeling of contentment, as every fibre in my body screamed out: ‘I’m home.’
