Haunted asylums and busy work!

Work has a habit of taking you to places you might never otherwise visit, and this week it’s carried me all the way to Sligo, perched on the wild western edge of the Republic of Ireland.

The journey alone felt like a small expedition. It began back home near Cardiff, heading east to Bristol Airport for a flight across to Dublin. From there, the real distance revealed itself — a four-hour bus journey that cut steadily across the country, mile after mile of rolling landscape, grey skies, and that unmistakable Irish sense of space. Long, yes, but strangely calming. The kind of travel that forces you to slow down and just watch the world pass by.

Sligo itself has a character that hits you almost immediately. Rugged, coastal, and quietly confident, it feels like a place shaped as much by weather and history as by people. My time here is firmly work-focused, with visits lined up to both Atlantic Technological University, Sligo, and Sligo University Hospital — two very different environments, but both central to why I’m here. It’s going to be a packed couple of days, full of conversations, learning, and professional focus.

But then there’s the hotel.

I’m staying at the Clayton Hotel, which sounds innocent enough until you learn that it’s one of the most haunted hotels in all of Ireland. Nearly 200 years old, it was once a mental asylum, and that history hasn’t exactly faded quietly into the past. Stories of restless spirits, unexplained noises, and lingering presences seem to follow the building like a shadow.

So tonight, as I drop my bag and try to unwind, I’ll be doing so with the gentle hope that the ghosts of tortured souls past decide I look tired enough to leave alone. A good night’s sleep would be very much appreciated — especially with such busy days ahead.

Still, there’s something oddly fitting about staying somewhere so steeped in history. After hours of modern transport, meetings, and schedules, it’s a reminder that places carry memories far older than our brief visits. Whether or not the stories are true, the atmosphere is undeniable.

Here’s hoping the only thing that wakes me in the night is my alarm — and that Sligo, in all its Atlantic wildness and haunted charm, proves to be as productive as it is memorable.