Day 5: Trimmed with Nostalgia

 As I was driving home from ballet class today (yes, you read that right—silver swan incoming), I passed through Trim. Nothing unusual there. But, thanks to this 100 Days of Summer challenge (and the return of Irish sunshine), I decided to actually stop the car and go for a walk.

Trim was a regular haunt when we were kids—Dad would bring us out for a run around the castle and then bribe us into good behavior with ice cream from The Bon Bon. Simpler times. Stickier fingers.

Now, Trim Castle is one of the most famous in Ireland—not just because it’s the largest Norman castle still standing, but because it was the setting for the Oscar-winning film Braveheart. Apparently, Mel Gibson is a bigger draw than Sir Hugh de Lacy. No offence, Hugh.

I decided not to go into the castle this time (how rebellious), but to admire it from a new angle: the Riverbank Walk on the opposite side of the Boyne. And boy, was I glad I did.

From across the river, the castle looks even more impressive—like it’s about to star in another movie. I wandered up to the Yellow Tower, which, according to local legend (and possibly someone with sunglasses), glows gold at sunset. Today it looked more "steely grey with a hint of impending rain," but I’ll take their word for it.

Further along was Sheep’s Gate—the last remaining of five medieval gates into Trim. I assume it was for getting sheep into the market, but I’m no medieval logistics expert. Still, pretty cool.

The path eventually led to Newtown. Built in the 13th century, the name now feels like a cheeky joke. But walking those ancient paths, I couldn’t help but feel a bit awed. People have been wandering these same routes for hundreds of years—though probably with fewer selfies.

The monastery ruins were stunning, but my personal highlight was the Tomb of the Jealous Lord and Lady. Why were they jealous? Who knows. Maybe he kept stealing her medieval snacks. The real gem is the wart-removal legend: Apparently, if you pricked a wart with a pin and left it on the tomb, the wart would vanish as the pin rusted. BUT—under no circumstances were you to use someone else’s pin, or you’d inherit their wart. Personally, I think using a rusty pin for anything should come with a warning label, wart or no wart.

By the time I made it back to my car—legs wobbly from pliés and a medieval pilgrimage—I felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. This is exactly why I started this challenge. Normally, I would’ve driven straight through Trim. But today, I saw it properly. Like a tourist. Like a kid again.

It’s funny how easily we take for granted the beauty on our doorstep.

Watch this space. Day 5 done. Only 95 to go