As an occasional photo blogger, I am conscious of the image I want to portray of Ireland or at least this small corner of it. I am proud of our beautiful countryside, our rich heritage and culture, and I seek out images which reflect this.
But occasionally, this urge to post only picture perfect photos jars with reality and I question my self-censorship.
There is an Ireland which doesn't quite fit with the romantic images found in glossy travel magazines or the current marketing campaigns aimed at attracting visitors to 'The Gathering' next year. What is the real Ireland? What lies beyond the thatched cottages, the crumbling castles, the brightly painted pubs and the ubiquitous sheep?
The abandoned farmhouses which dot the countryside might look quite picturesque but they often tell a story of emigration, lonely bachelor farmers, family feuds or a simple lack of appreciation for the vernacular architecture.
Photographers are often drawn to scenes of dereliction and decay but I can't imagine this appearing on a Bord Failte poster.
The demise of the Celtic Tiger and the construction boom has left vast tracts of unfinished housing estates across the county, often in the most unlikely of places such as small villages which suddenly and un-realistically found themselves within the capital's computer belt.
Of course I know I'm going to feel unpatriotic when I push the publish button so it's a case of taking a deep breath and thinking 'publish and be damned.'