First we didn't know that this vast, sprawling fruit farm existed nor did we attend because of fruit or farming in fact agriculture wasn't even in our minds. Just as well as there was no actual fruit in sight but I'll get to that later. My wife plays in a ukulele group ukulele meaning jumping flea in Hawaiian. The uke reached Hawaii via Portuguese immigrants from Madeira and the Azores. We've visited these beautiful islands many times. The uke is a member of the lute family of instruments (in case you thought lute was a Portuguese surname). So we were here to play music voluntarily in a charity event in village Ireland in lousy weather to raise money for a cancer charity because miserable bastard politicians won't pay sufficient money to fund vital life saving healthcare when they always find magic money trees to self inflate their very generous wages and award themselves alone life long gold standard pensions. Three other music groups also performed. Well I wasn't there to play. I'm the coffee drinking roadie for my wife and generally a nuisance and agitator as a curmudgeon having lived long enough to startle myself and others. In the spirit of it we also paid the suggested five euro entrance fee to the volunteers but if you did not pay that's your business and you would not have been denied entry. There were donkey rides, an ice cream vendor selling the whipped vegetable oil and air 'ice cream'. Ice cream lovers beware castoreum, it's a yellow, syrupy substance from the castor sacs near a beaver's anus, and is found in your everyday vanilla-flavored products, disguised as "natural flavouring." castoreum is an ingredient in everything from ice cream to strawberry-flavored oatmeal. They also had live farm animals on show from pigs to turkeys, and farm machinery that looks like it was designed by a committee with opposing agendas oh and a kids roundabout. There was a coffee dock in a converted horse trailer towed hither and tither, with good coffees around €3.4, a lady selling home made delicious cakes and butter cream topped fancies, free face - painting and balloons tied in all manner of shapes (donations accepted). I'm sure I've left stuff out. Now I said there wasn't any fruit but there was. While there wasn't any fresh fruit there was fruit as jam, marmalade, relish and liquid form of pressed apples bottled by variety: russet, bramley and a few others. No beaver anus in sight. I opted for the 3 for €10 deal from their own direct farm shop - cards accepted but no crypto. I got a litre each of freshly squeezed unadulterated, no krap added, russet and bramley as they are me favourite apples and a 400 gram jar of dense orangey marmalade containing a whole three ingredients viz oranges (certainly not grown in cool wet damp green Ireland) sugar and water. I also got 12 laid that morning eggs as they left the hen for €4. I can say that they taste truly delicious as omelettes and scrambled. We noted that pick yer own fruit begins in June and I spied gooseberry bushes (they have other soft fruits and the vegetable rhubarb but goosies are me favourite especially the ones that turn purple but they won't be purple in June. I jam them, compote them and they go in fruit pies, in home made ice cream, fools, and possets or served with pork or turkey. This place has a major downside. It has insufficient toilets. One for males one for females and there are long queues on days like this. I don't particularly care to queue near 15 minutes for a convenience made inconvenient. read more

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