A woman and her dog. She was listening to her phone, while her dog sat on her lap.

The man in the checked shirt turned round and looked straight at the camera as I walked past. It was a hip shot. I don’t think he knew he was the subject of my photo.

The Museu de les Ciències in Valencia is a spectacular sight. Santiago Calatrava’s building goes on for a long way, a row of white concrete ribs and arches with a wide flight of steps at one end.

Two people were taking out cash but the doggy was keeping an eye on the crowds walking past, and probably looking for other dogs as they were a common sight on the streets of Valencia.

A puddle covered most of the floor of the car park at the Kingsley Hotel and luckily no cars drove through it while I had my camera down low by the water’s edge. I love how this came out.

I stopped at the corner of Cattle Market Avenue as the evening sun dropped behind the rooftops. The street was already in shade. What light was left fell on Shandon’s tower, clock and gold salmon included, and on a Lidl Connect billboard on the wall beside me. A lovely evening to be out in Cork City.

Today started early with a drive to Killarney before sunrise. I got there a few minutes after 7:30am and in the cold donned wellies and wrapped up well. Soon the world started to brighten and sooner still I regretted wearing wellies instead of my comfortable runners.

The deer were elusive most of the day but towards the afternoon we saw a stag and hinds in the middle of a field. Other stags joined and approached and were warned off. Another stag with hinds crossed the field nearby. I lost track of them in the long grass. Their fur blending with the natural environment.

On a team meetup in Madrid in 2017, a group of us went to see flamenco dancing at Cardamomo. The dancer spun fast enough to blur, with two guitarists, a singer and two men clapping behind. I’m not sure what I expected, but it didn’t move me. The reviews are glowing, though. Every seat I could see held a tourist, us included, and the whole evening felt staged for that foreign audience.

Maybe I expected what you’d see in an Irish pub where musicians are surrounded by the tables and it’s more intimate. It’s probably not possible with flamenco dancers.

Walk down the road from Man Friday in Kinsale, and you’ll come to a fork in the road with lots of boats on the water beyond.

It was turning out to be a disappointing sunset as there was so much cloud, and it was getting dark quickly, not great when you’re balancing on the hill going down to Dunquin Pier. Luckily, there was a break in the clouds and I spotted some of the golden light of the sunset peek through.

It was gone again in a moment, and soon I was walking up the steep path back to the car in the dark.