At about 12 this morning, Fr. Pat, Mám and myself took a boat up the river. We passed by the Cappoquin Bacon Factory, where 400 pigs are killed every week, and it was horrible to hear the poor pigs squealing. The weather was sweltering all day, and a mile above the town Fr. Pat and I took a swim. It was simply delicious, and I stayed in over half an hour. Fr. Pat was killingly fussy about the boat, letting nobody move in case we would be ‘wrecked’ and keeping in the centre of the river in case we might get stranded, and not be able to get off again! We enjoyed it immensely. After dinner Fr. Pat was leaving when we decided to go into Cork with him. So I drove almost the whole way, and he was fresh when leaving for Dunmanway after tea. Mám and I then went to see a picture in the Washington called ‘The Crimean Runner’ as Mám said she heard Páp talking about its being historic. At first it promised to be good, but was fairly stupid after, ending with an Austrian baron marrying a robber! 3 sets. Weren’t in bed till 11.30.
