Cork, still.

Two days wandering and I’ve yet to find Cork any different. I feared I’d glorified my memory of the place, but, for the most part, Cork seems charmingly the way it did ten years ago. The shops I used to shop at, the pubs I used to drink at; they’re all still here. Older, shabbier, but stubbornly keeping on.

I haven’t done anything to support the Cork tourism industry. I have, however, supported Cadbury and Tesco and Lidl and local bakeries in epic proportions. Food! It’s different here! There’s cherry Pepsi Max and dark chocolate Bounty Bars and chocolate-coated Brazil nuts and FRUIT SCONES. My fondness for fruit scones back in my former Cork days was no doubt a contributor to my unflattering weight gain, and I’ve since wondered how on earth I could have been so enchanted by a lump of dough and raisins. But take that lump of dough and add sugar, butter and jam, and you’ve got this utterly irresistible mid-morning snack that only leaves you craving more, more, more.

So much for saving my pennies. And self-discipline.

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