Search Results for 'Cushlough Bay'

I always loved this time of year as a child. All winter long, the three lake boats which we had on Lough Mask would lie as part of the winter furniture — a plaything for my childhood. October to February was their hibernation, a chance for them to drip dry over the dark months, to enjoy life on land. A chance for the floorboards, probably sodden in water all summer, to dry in the shed, alongside the oars. To have a timbered chat with each other about the adventures that they'd had all year, the rocks they'd have run aground, the stories they'd have heard, the secrets shared between anglers and gillies, the dying fish which breathed last on the thin ribs beneath the floorboards.