There’s something about this bench that’s always gotten to me. It sits at towards the end of the strand, looking out at Rosslare Harbour and beyond, almost hidden in the reeds and grass and flanked by two old cannons.
I have a memory of being 18 and practicing for my leaving cert by coming down on our trip to Rosslare and painting the bench. I remember feeling like a pillock, sitting there in front of the world for all to see “painting”, I remember being incredibly sparing my my expensive Gouche paints because I wanted them to last (and then never really used them again afterwards). Nothing has changed that much; I feel like a pillock when I take photographs and I’m always too sparing with my photographs and take too long taking them.