Do you know what?  Some things are just wasted on me.  I was fortunate to join a limited-access tour of Cormac’s Chapel at the Rock of Cashel in County Tipperary, Ireland, and I ended up spending most of my time there just wishing I was back outside again.

Now, I know that this might sound ungrateful but, the fact is, I get a bit agoraphobic in crowds and, although the access to Cormac’s Chapel was limited, it wasn’t so limited that in the very confined space of the chapel it didn’t feel like a crush.

Now, if I had been permitted exclusive access, that would have been a whole different kettle of fish, and I am sure I would have fully appreciated Cormac’s Chapel for the marvel of Romanesque architecture that it is.  As it was, I could not look beyond my fellow limited-accessors in order to enjoy the intricacy of the carved stone doorways and the fragile wall frescoes, which are being miraculously restored after having been exposed to the ravages of the damp atmosphere for centuries.

Perhaps, inevitably, and in order to avert my eyes from the crush of visitors, my gaze was drawn heavenwards, and to the blessedly open spaces of the chapel ceiling.

Even here, though, I found myself not alone.  Three faces stared back at me but, this time, I did not find myself resentful of their presence.  More, sympathetic.

Three carved heads emerging from the sandstone.  Blank-eyed; stony-faced; grim looking: they didn’t appear to be enjoying the throng of visitors to their sanctuary any more than was I.

© E. C. Glendenny

What’s a girl to do? E. C. Glendenny just doesn’t like crowds.