DOWNTIME in Donegal
the wind howls and hail rattles against the windows of my room on the upper floor of Carnaween House. There is nothing to fear. The sturdy building has withstood many a tempest and this flurry of bad weather is hardly that. This is the Wild Atlantic Way, after all – the scenic route that showcases Donegal’s rugged coastal beauty – and one should expect a few theatrics. I burrow under the duvet, listening to the dull roar of rain and sea beyond the thick glass panes, and drift back to sleep.
In the morning I roll up the blind and gasp – no, really! There is a physical jolt as the view registers in my brain. It is the light that is so arresting. Both silver and gold,
