"The isle is full of noises sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt now.
"Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears and sometimes voices that if I then had waked after long sleep will wake me sleep again; and then in dreaming the clouds me though would open and show riches ready to drop upon me that when i waked i cried to dream again."
Have you considered how many spaces you actually have no right to be in? Shopping malls, for example.
In the old days you had the right to stroll around your town, look at the world, stare at the world over a cup of tea and a slice of toast.
But not in a shopping mall or your supermarket or its car park or ... well you get the idea.
Try this: go into your shopping mall and start taking some photographs.
See how long it takes for a chap with a plug in his ear to come and tell you to stop.
Try this: sit on the floor and read the paper. Ditto.
Or try taking your family and friends for a roof top picnic. What could be better ... crunchy bread, warm merlot, lovely cheese ... overlooking your gorgeous town?
Not only don't you have the right to be there ... but someone or other actually employs someone or other to move you on, harass you, or have you and your family taken to the underground car park and beaten.
It's a generation now since someone pointed out that graveyards and cemeteries are some of the few remaining (haha) public spaces where one can wonder about without fear of arrest.
(Unless of course you're a 14year old with a bottle of diamond white. In which case you should also be hung. This is called irony.)
So anyway. Here are two pictures of St Stephen's Green in Dublin. They're not great pictures but it is a great democratic space.
Now i accept that the authorities probably have a whole set of bylaws under which i could be arrested. Eating the tulips on a good friday.
Or using it as a base from which to occupy the Shelbourne hotel. But it IS a public right of way (I think).
When the human race first put its foot out of Africa it headed for Connemara. For a summer break perhaps.
Or soup and toastie.
Or maybe it got lost, found itself in Killarney, got fed up of all the coaches, gave Kerry a miss, came across on the Tarbert ferry, had a bowl of stew in Doolin and then ... and then ..
Not much of a theory and i know it kind of misses out a few million years - and a couple of all-important ice ages.
Richard Leakey would pick holes in my theory but in my view it has romance and a spiritual truth. And that's important.
There is, of course, some evidence. I didn't just make it up out of thin air. Take for example the ancient megalithic tractors that still litter the landscape. Not exactly Lucy I know. But rust is rust.
It's a funny thing Twitter: i really like it, though heaven knows why anybody puts up with me.
At its best it's full of passion, delightful bad behaviour and hilarious quick-witted folk who one never meets and don't know from Adam. (There was no Adam.)
But somehow, i have no idea how, i came across a lass called @anniewestdotcom who it turns out is also www.anniewest.com who it turns out also lives in Drumcliffe, Sligo and who it turns out is great fun and a cartoonist.
So somehow, in a rainstorm, we washed up on her shore and had a great afternoon eating cake, drinking tea and admiring her loo seat.
We also bought some of her prints. We would have bought them all but she said she wanted to save some for posterity. And rich Americans.
These are just quick pics of Annie's web site. (Sorry Annie). We bought these two.
Go and have a look at her smashing web site ... or if you're in Dublin next month go see her new exhibition.