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Castles, shoes, Seals and a surprise pub queue

We started the day in what I like to call a “civilised hour” — 9am. Any earlier and it’s breakfast, any later and it’s brunch, and frankly, I can’t handle that kind of existential crisis on holiday. A short stroll brought us to a café called Cold Stone. Don’t worry, it wasn’t as bleak as the name suggests — coffee and eggs were as warm and reassuring as an Irish welcome.

By early afternoon, we were inevitably lured into McCafferty’s Pub — purely cultural research, of course.

Two pints later, we were off for something nautical: the Donegal Bay Waterbus. At 3:30 sharp, we set sail (well, motored) downriver toward the Atlantic. We bagged seats outside on top, which was scenic and bracing, but mercifully a crew member appeared with drinks. Nothing says “I’m at sea” quite like clutching a gin & tonic while squinting at seals. Along the way we spotted a few blubbery locals sunbathing and some enviable houses perched along the riverbanks, the sort of places you only own if your ancestors invented Guinness or at least the paperclip.

Back on dry land, we regrouped with the noble intention of more pubbing. The Castle Bar was our first target… only to discover it has a waiting list for drinks. A waiting list. For a pint. I’ve seen many things in pubs, but this was a first. Plan B: O’Donnell’s, where we successfully hydrated before moving on to the Grand Hotel for dinner. Dining was lovely — until a table of very vocal Americans behind us treated the entire room to what I can only assume was a rehearsal for Broadway’s next big musical.

For the nightcap, we skipped the pubs altogether and went DIY: two fine bottles of Bushmills whisky, opened in Acky & Sylvia’s spacious family room. A civilised 11pm lights-out capped yet another Donegal day brimming with castles, history, unexpected footwear emergencies, and the occasional seal.

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