The sound of silence

Dubliners often think of County Wicklow as their playground and, while I guess this must be annoying to people from Wicklow at times, I'm no exception. Whenever you find yourself on the top of the slightest hill in generally-flat Dublin there are the Wicklow Mountains, right to the south. I love the view from the Rathmines Bridge with the city buildings and the mountains as a backdrop. When you've access to a car, as I sometimes do, and it's not the commuters' rush hour, you can reach the wild mountains from the city centre in less than half an hour.

All of this is a long-winded introduction to something I read in the paper this morning.

This weekend, there's what has got to be the coolest festival EVER, and it's on in Wicklow; it's a festival of silent and "lost" films, and it's going to be held in a big, old, stately home. I am desperately trying to figure out a way to get to it, because it just sounds fabulous. I hate to say it, but I'm even sorry I accepted an invitation to the rugby match, because this is so much more my thing.

It's called the "Kilruddery Film Festival". Check it out. It looks so amazing.


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