Cappagh Beach at half-six in the morning is colder than I’d planned for. We’d driven down to Kerry the night before and I was up in the dark, heading out the door and shared the journey from Dingle with Freddie at the wheel. I forgot my wellies, but while I cursed my lack of preparation,…

We’d climbed up onto the dunes just as the weather turned. One minute it was postcard Fuerteventura. Bright sand, blue sea, the whole thing was beautiful and the next a slab of grey had slid in off the Atlantic and parked itself overhead. Suddenly we were running for our cars as rain pelted down. But…

This handsome iguana was lounging on a branch in the hothouse at Fota Wildlife Park this morning. He didn’t seem bothered by the passing crowds: kids, parents and inquisitive photographers with the wrong lenses. A bit of cropping and I had the frame I wanted. That red-rimmed stare never left me though, watching from the…

We were standing across from Cobh in the park on Haulbowline Island to photograph the fireworks display over Cobh on St. Patrick’s Day this year. With a camera on a tripod, timing a fireworks display is basically an exercise in optimistic guesswork. When I see the firework launch, I press the shutter button, hope a…

Clogher Beach in early March is not what you’d call hospitable. This little cove on the Dingle Peninsula opens straight onto the Atlantic, and the swell hits the slate head-on; the spray goes up twice as high as the wave itself. I was there with Blarney Photography Club, all of us strung out along the…

We pulled in at the Mirador de Guise y Ayose and after photographing the statues there like everyone else (I have yet to post those photos, stay tuned) I pointed the camera at this little red-ringed 40 sign keeping watch by the road. Which is funny, because the view behind it is the whole reason…

I stopped halfway across the Millennium Bridge and pointed the camera north, which turned out to be the same thing roughly nine thousand other people were doing that afternoon. I looked behind me and there was another group of tourists with their phones raised taking much the same photo I have here. St. Paul’s Cathedral…

There was a single boat on our little corner of the Lakes of Killarney. I’d walked down from O’Sullivan’s Cascade to join other photographers from Blarney Photography Club. They were busy photographing the same scene you see here and everything around them. We were enjoying the afternoon sunlight on a calm October day last year.

Cork’s Pope Quay packs more character into two hundred metres than most cities manage in a mile. I was standing on the south bank with the River Lee between us, drawn initially by the sweep of that pedestrian footbridge. It’s a clean, modern arc that sits surprisingly well against the jumble of modern, Georgian and…

Fist in the air, beer in the other hand, in defiance of the rain that had been hammering down earlier. This is Las Fallas distilled into two men and a moment. I caught them mid-chant on one of the streets near the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. The man on the left had gone full traditional, with…

A pigeon had taken up residence in the Dubray Books window on St. Patrick Street, wedged comfortably between Michael Palin and a Lonely Planet guide which is frankly better taste in travel literature than most of us manage. It sat there among the carefully arranged display like it had been hired for the job, unbothered…

A Hyundai sat brazenly on the double yellows outside Dunnes on Drawbridge Street, and behind the wheel, well, behind the steering wheel at least, sat this absolute unit of a security detail. Blue jumper on, mouth open, eyes locked on mine like I’d just tried the door handle. The owner had clearly nipped into the…