Tric Kearney: 'We arrived to discover it was a single mobile home, next to a house, in the centre of Allihies village'

I’m giddy with excitement, like a child waiting for Christmas. One more sleep and I’m off on holidays. Yesterday, while walking with a friend, a plane flew overhead and I felt a thrill of delight, writes Tric Kearney.

Hallelujah, I won’t be going in one of those this year.

Our holiday booking took all of two minutes via a phone call. No days of my life wasted on the internet searching for a place with a pool and four bedrooms. Somewhere near the beach and close to a town, which is busy, but not too busy.

Surprisingly, such places are rarely available, unless we book for the following year, the day we return from holidays. Unfortunately, being a last minute dot com type of family, with more than two adults and two children, our only hope is to compromise. Perhaps lose a bedroom? Move out of town? Or occasionally choose a different country? Although I like to keep that final compromise as a secret as long as I can.

Last year, within minutes of sitting myself poolside, dying a slow death in the heat of Portugal, I announced we’d be going to be Costa Del West Cork next year. Magical Allihies to be precise. No worries about passports or checking in online, no airport queues and our luggage allowance determined by how much we can stuff into the car.

Not being a native Corkonian, I discovered Allihies by accident. Over 20 years ago, with two young children. I answered an advertisement for a holiday in a mobile home in West Cork. Wonderful, I thought, a caravan park would suit perfectly.

Perhaps I should have asked more questions, because we arrived to discover it was a single mobile home, next to a house, in the centre of Allihies village.

Without doubt it was the most wonderful mistake I’ve ever made.

I could attempt to describe to you this piece of heaven, but I’d struggle to put into words how this small village on the very edge of the Beara peninsula, fills my soul. It’s multi-coloured houses nestle at the base of ancient scree mountains and gaze out to an often wild Atlantic sea.

In Allihies I find a peace I’ve never come close to anywhere else in the world, and a freedom, as I climb its hills and mountains, no pool or sun holiday could ever bring me.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t come with guaranteed sunshine, a deal breaker for many.

I recall one year meeting a couple with children who were of a similar age to ours. We were midway through a two-week stay and the weather had been rather unkind, to say the least. Sitting in the local pub one evening we asked them how they were enjoying themselves.

“Terrible,” groaned the father. “We go to Wexford every year where the beaches are amazing and the weather is never like this.”

“It’s been a bit wet alright,” said yer man, “did you get for a swim at all?”

The look on the father’s face was answer enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the time to tell him yer man and our children had been swimming every day, regardless of the rain or cool temperatures.

“Did you explore any of the waymarked walks?” I asked, not one to give up on Allihies easily.

“The children don’t like walking,” he replied.

With that his children came running in, immaculately dressed, flushed from running wild outside. They were accompanied by two of ours, in less than clean shorts and wellies, with no jumper between them despite the cool evening.

“We’re having great fun,” his children beamed, before running off again.

“And,” said the father, “there’s no wifi or phone coverage in the house. I’ve to come out to get emails!”

Allihies, I thought, you really are perfect.