Ireland - Part I

Sun 24th June 2007

So. I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know I've decided to blog my holiday. Concious of the fact this is as much for me as anyone else, and that the dictionary definition of "blog" is wandered ramblings of the egomanic under the misapprehension that the rest of the populace gives a monkeys about what they say, I make no apologies for the dull content to follow.

Kick off is a sprint from work at 4 on the friday to make a ferry for the emerald isle. A boat best described as a floating creche with the occasional scottish expert on 17th century european political history on their way for a walkin holiday in belfast. Two hours later and we're off the boat in the fair city of Belfast. Off we pop to Olive and Garth's, the house of maxwell. Directions? Leave parliament building by main gate, turn right and you're there. Max made us all proud, and is now much loved in their abode. I was an obvious let down for them, but then you can't have everything.

Saturday, we were off quick smart to do a round of meeting of laura's friends (spouses (kids)). First off, a coffee with Kiara (Geoff (Oliver, Eva and Henry)), then lunch with Catherine and Jessica (Neill (Archie and Amelia)). Lunch was a typical affair that one would have had in the west end, right down to a proud boast by one of the attendees (Archie) that he had done a plop in the pan. Uncanny!

An evening was then spent on our todds, leaving the mutt with the outlaws, trip into the city itself. And I really must thank the Northern Irish Tourist Board for laying on a real life flute band on the bus trip in. Swift jar of the black and irish in the Crown Bar, still impressive even though undergoing refurbishment, then a wander through the cethedral quarter, which laura didnae know either and we were therefor on an equal foorting, so we picked wee place at random for a bite and a bottle of wine, then off to Kelly's Cellar to sample, apparently, traditional irish culture. And fine it was too, apart from our initial attemts to find it. "What way to Kelly's Cellar," asks Laura of the random doorman, "and is it still full of underagers". Excellent. Immediate call to the cops no doubt, there's a paedophile ring in town. Couple of blackbeers later, some random background tootling, plucking and droning later, and we're off for a whistle stop tour from a taxi-driver from the wrong side o town who knew not the way, but to be fair only charged us seven bucks for a twenty minute drive.