I thought this picture deserved a little section all to itself.
As I came down the hillside into Gorey, I stopped dead. Who … who, I wondered, would have the courage to perpetrate such a piece of wonderful eccentricity? Someone left over from the aesthetic movement, perhaps? I had to photograph it. And of course, as I did, a gentleman belonging to the property drew up in his car.
People love it or hate it, he said. I assured him that I was one of the lovers. I hoped I might get an invite to see what was inside the gates, but alas, no luck.
So it was just the gate. Which is pretty much, all on its own.