At last they were off in earnest, with the dog going mad with excitement: past Derrymore, the haunted house and the People's Park, which was called Dillon's Park after Miss Dillon, who was fat and had whiskers and kept the little hut of a shop at the gate where you bought fizz-bags. This park was all short grass and tarred paths until you came to the sea at the bottom, where when the tide was out you caught baby crabs and starfish and little shrimp, see-through like glass, or knocked barnacles off the rocks for bait.  Better was Sorrento Park across the road where you could climb or play cowboys or hide in the tunnels made by the furze. This was the end of Dublin Bay: you walked around the corner of Sorrento Point and there was The Vico Road and Killiney Bay in front of you, with the mountains tumbling out to the sea, the two Sugar Loafs and Bray Head and the Vale of Shanganagh quiet between you and them. The Vico was steep and twisty. On one side of it there were blue, white and pink houses, high above the road like cliffs, with their windows gawking at the view; on the other side, far down, were the railway line and the sea. They stopped at the lane that led to The Ramparts, which was The Gentleman's Bathing Place, where in the summer his Da would dive in in his pelt, with the dog swimming rings around him and Jack watching from the rocks. They heard the soft far-away sighing noise of the sea on Killiney Strand. He had never known his Da not to stop here, to look at the mountains, draw in his breath and say: 'Sure isn't it the finest bloody country in the world!'

Extract from 'Home Before Night' by Hugh Leonard, Dalkey playwright and author,  1926-2009.