Having had a few days to reflect back on Jamie's first trip to Ireland, it occurred to me what a large part water played in proceedings (and not just because he peed on me a couple of times).
First, there were the ferry trips across the Irish Sea and back.
He wasn't particularly impressed by the sight of Liverpool from his cabin window (as you may notice above) but thankfully cheered up a bit once he got out on deck later in the day.
Our trip to Donegal involved another return ferry trip, this time across Lough Foyle. He seemed a little happier with that (left), principally because the journey time was only 13 minutes as opposed to eight hours on board the "big boat."
Then there were the occasions he took to the water himself, first in Granda' White's sink for a bath (below). And then in the children's pool of our Buncrana hotel were he grizzled a little but didn't properly kick off (at least until I tried to extract him from his swimming nappy). Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to take a pic of this in case I was a closet paedophile (which thankfully I'm not).
And, of course, throughout out trip, we were always a stone's throw from the most beautiful coastline in the world and, with it, the North Atlantic.
I was forever chucked into that particular ocean during my own childhood but thought it best to give Jamie a few more tries in warmer waters first before introducing him to the experience. Next time, he's going in (with Vanessa - I'd better mention it to her).