Saturday August 11 
     It was our last day of the trip, and we were back to horse shopping.  We went to take a second look at several of the horses we had liked on the first day.  After watching Martin Coffey’s four-year-old by King’s Master school over fences, I ended up making a deal with Martin to buy him.  I was quite happy to be importing a horse from Ireland; perhaps the economics will work out to make it a regular occurrence again.  

     On a previous trip we had noticed the ruins of Thomastown Castle across the fields on the road from Tipperary town to Cashel, but had not had the chance to visit it.  So this time, after a quick lunch at a pub with Clare, Jineen and I set out to explore.
   We drove up a lane that took us nearer the castle and parked in the gateway to a field.  A farmer there cautioned us about our path to reach the castle; he told us that mean bulls lived in the pasture we had intended to cross.  We had to devise a round-about route through adjoining pastures; we negotiated several thorny hedges and treacherous barbed wire fences in order to stick to the fields with cows and avoid the bulls.  We passed large paddocks fenced by old castle garden walls, built of stone some fifteen feet high.

      Presently we came to a fabulous old gatehouse in the corner of a green pasture, complete with a round turret, notched parapets, and arrow-slot windows.  A black and white cow stood by the portal, regarding us placidly. 
     We crossed the field to the castle in a fine misting rain, and a herd of heifers followed us, watching our every move with amazement.  We noticed that there did indeed seem to be several young bulls with the herd, but they were immature and allowed us to pass unchallenged.  

     Thomastown Castle is a large rambling ruin, and a heavy layer of ivy covers much of it.  We wandered through the rooms, with the heifers following.  Sadly, this beautiful castle has fallen into a state of neglect and disrepair.  Large cracks run through many of the upper walls, and numerous sections have tumbled to the ground.  Huge treelike growths of ivy with woody trunks grow up the walls, and the lower courtyards are choked with weeds and brush.  The rooms and chambers are open to the weather and the cows.  It seemed a terrible shame to us that no measures have been taken to preserve this magnificent ruin, but absolutely no restoration has been attempted.  This is something that we have always found surprising: Ireland is full of castles that are many centuries old and would be considered national treasures in our country, and they are left abandoned in pastures and used as shelters for the livestock.  For the most part the Irish people seem to take these pieces of their national heritage for granted, and they don’t understand the fascination the castles hold for Jineen and I.  It makes us sad that Thomastown Castle is being allowed to disintegrate into ruin. 

       We stopped in the town of Golden to pick up a bottle of wine, and then went to Athassel Abbey for a last Happy Hour - we were flying home the next day.  Once again parking half in the road by a farm lane entrance, we walked across a cow pasture to visit the ruin.  We had briefly visited Athassel Abbey years ago, and we were happy to return and spend a bit more time there.  We walked among the Celtic crosses in the courtyard cemetery, trying to make out names and dates on the stones.  We sat on a wall and had a very peaceful Happy Hour.  The rain had let up and great beams of sunlight broke through the clouds.  The swallows were flying high over the tower; must mean another good haymaking day.   

     Back in Cashel, we met up with Clare and her friend Mona for dinner.  Mona’s partner Mick was the finder of the Derrynaflan Chalice, so we reminisced about the finding of our own chalice, and compared the merits of the two.  Mona recommended West Cork for our next visit, so that gave us something to look forward to.  A last fish and chips dinner and a final pint of Smithwicks, and then we headed back to the Derrynaflan House, Mrs. O’Sullivan’s B&B, for our last night in Ireland.  In the morning we said goodbye to Ireland – until next time.