I still wonder why some places are unpleasant and others not so...perhaps Jenny is right when she said perhaps that little boy met an unpleasant death and his spirit is restless and sad...but he wouldn't make the entire area feel horrid would he?

St Patrick doesn't do much for me in all honesty...he must have lived for at least a couple of hundred years to have been to all the places they say he went to...and sat on the rocks that every parish calls St Patricks Stone and makes a song and dance about as though the old boy was there last week easing his bunions.

And he was uncommonly fond of converting young women and deciding they were Saints and that doesn't endear him to me at all. Now, this creepy graveyard...it was the site of St Attractas Hospice...I've told you that before but I'm just running it past you again. St Attracta came from a wealthy family and knew many other young women who were of the same class as herself. They gathered together and built and opened the Hospice to serve wayfarers and travellers...rather like a Youth Hostel I suppose. But being newly converted Christians there was a catch in their offers of hospitality and they preached to their guests and made every effort to convert as many people as they could to the new religion.

It doesn't seem that Attracta and her women opened their doors to lepers or other outcasts from their society...they weren't involved in tending the sick or ensuring everyone in the locality had a decent burial...in fact St Attracta doesn't appear to have done much at all.

The site of the original building has long disappeared...there aren't even any remaining foundations nor are there grassy ridges which usually indicate where a building once stood...it is simply a totally flat area of land surrounded by a stone wall. my arch enemy, the now retired Bishop, dedicated a simple cross which stands in the middle some time ago but there are no other memorials of any kind to indicate what was once there.

Every country and town graveyard in Ireland, and especially in the West, has graves of famine victims...that is simply a fact. Not just the Great Famine but all those smaller famines which came before...and there were several. Even the grave sites devoted solely to the victims of famine don't have the un-nerving atmosphere that this place has. When we went there last year it was with no pre-concieved images or expections...it's only a few miles from us, but was one of those places we'd intended to go and see and never had.

There were a couple of grave-diggers there preparing a new grave and even they were unfriendly and didn't return our greetings...and that is highly unusual here where everyone will stop whatever they are doing for a chat. I'm sort of writing this out loud if you like while I try to place what it is which made me so uneasy...

Jenny also mentioned that she'd felt terribly uneasy about a place her friends lived in...Gracie said the same about a house where she lived as a child...so what is it about us...what is it about these seemingly innocent areas and houses which poke us sharply in the ribs and make us feel at best uncomfortable and at worst desperate to get out...are there unhappy and restless souls still roaming about ...was St Attracta not a very nice person at all or was her Hospice built on the site of a much earlier homeplace perhaps, which still has troubled souls attached to it...

You remember I went to the Museum in Dublin and saw the Bog Bodies...they lay there at total peace even though they had been sacrifical victims of their times. All of them gave off a feeling of serenity and calm...but the exhibit I really didn't like at all was the huge dug-out boat. It had been an Oak tree and had been carved out in the middle to act as a simple boat...I didn't like it. It gave something off...an energy I think, which was decidely uncomfortable. But I can gaze at the exhibits of the firearms used in the many skirmishes which were probably responsible for people dying and I don't turn a hair...

There must be very many unknown and undiscovered levels in our world which are there...just under the surface of our lives.