It’s been almost a year since my boyfriend and I set off from under the shadow of Croagh Patrick in rain coats and padded shorts, laden down with homemade soda bread and a tent, to cycle the width of Ireland all the way back to Dublin, just days after both the centenary of the Easter Rising and St. Patrick’s Day. My boyfriend is pretty Irish. Both sides of his family are from the same county in the West of Ireland, his hair turns to copper in the sun, and his mother drinks Guinness when she’s ill instead of taking tablets. But it was my idea to cycle the width of the country, with nothing but a variety of rubber and[…]