Journey to the Emerald Isle

So we flew into Dublin Wed evening and were met by my good friend and champion,Keith.On the drive to his place Keith asked 'Fancy a pint?'.And so it began.We picked up the lovely Ciara and headed to a nice pub in Wickalaw(forgive the spelling of all Irish places and names).There was great band playing covers,and I tasted my first pint of proper Guinness and fell deeply in love.We laughed and talked and when the band(the lead singer is a Garda you know) played them,we sang along to Living on a prayer and what may very well be the most played song in the world,Summer of 69.
Thursday morning we awoke and headed over to Ciara's,where her lovely mom prepared what has to be the best fry up in Ireland.And she timed it perfectly for the moment we walked in the door.God bless her.So we ate and sighed in ecstasy and talked and played with her sweet sweet dog and left for Dublin.Once in Dublin we watched the St Patricks parade or what we could see of it and soaked up the electric atmosphere.We wandered over to Temple Bar,the pub and party district of the city and found a place,whose name I can't remember,that sold good beer and played good music,and there we stayed,and danced and laughed and sang Hey ya.
Friday we waited with baited breath for the arrival of the french men,Lee.He was due at Keiths around 3pm so naturally he strutted in about 7pm.We hugged and laughed and headed back into Dublin to meet up with Ciaran and Tom and Ann Marie and a few of the frasier girls,and eventually we found them in another bar whose name I forget,and we shook hands and hugged and laughed and posed for photos and sang and danced and cheered and spilled drinks and bent the leg all the way to the ground and somehow never got thrown out.It was a night to remember.
Saturday we hopped into Ciara's jazz blue convertible and dorve up to Glenlough monestery and through the surrounding hills and towns,the sun was out and it was beautiful.We stopped into his excellent local pub,where aside from the Guinness storehouse,I had the best pint of Guinness of my trip to the country.We sat outside and watched families kicking the football around and soaked up the fresh country air and watched a couple of dodgy looking pikies get thrown out, spit on the pub door, kick the local dog in the ribs,mutter something unintelligible and speed off in a rusty red hatchback.Luckily the dog was a thick muscular little bull dog,so no real damage was done,nut it did put a gey cloud over our otherwise brilliant day.The bastards.That night we went back over to Dublin for the fireworks.We went out for a great tex mex meal where me and Lee ate far too much.Ummm,yeah,we'll each start with the babyback ribs,then have the steak dinner.Stop the press...say again?Fat bastards.Afterwards we managed to just catch the last five minutes of the fireworks,they were spectacular.Then headed for the pub and barely forced down a pint before heading home,where Lee put on the Pelican Brief and we crashed for the night.
Sunday,Tomas's lovely parents Liam and Mary were kind enough to let us tag along with them down to Limerick and Ciaran and Tomas's hometown of Ballyhahill.A quaint friendly place.We met up with Ciaran and went out to his local for a pint and a little conversation.There we met Ciarans friend Elaine.She had just recently shaved off her long curly locks for charity in the very pub we were in and raised a very impressive 1500 euro in the process.An incredible feat.We also met Ciarans uncle and chatted about Ireland and Canada and history.Monday and Tuesday Ciaran drove us down around the south west of the island,to Dingle and the Cliffs of Mohar and Killarny.I introduced him to the sounds of Joel Plaskett and he introduced me to the sounds of Paddy Casey.A fair trade I think.
Wed we caught the train up to Belfast and met up once again with Lee.We stayed at his beautiful home and met his lovely mom and had many bowls of her delicious Irish stew and met his beautiful cats,whose names I'm deeply sorry to admit,I can't remember.That night we went round to Lee's local Grace Neills,the oldest pub in Ireland according to the Guinness book of records.It was established in 1611,I believe.there we met up with Adam and over many pints remeniesced(that can't be how you spell it.) about the good ol days of Echuca and Oz and Beeker.It still makes me laugh til it hurts when Adam tells the story of Beeker taking the meet out of Paddys burger.Sorry Paddy.Hopefully Beeker doesn't have internet.
Thursday Lee drove us up to the north coast to The Giants causeway,a group of cliffs and rock formations thats hard to describe.Among the cliffs and along the walking path is a long rope bridge.While waiting to cross back over the bridge to the mainland me,Nic and Lee stood by and watched as a french guy slipped and almost did a header right over the side.As Lee would say ha he ha he ha,push bikes and garlic.I don't think he appreciated our laughter.
On the friday we left for Galway.On the way through Belfast Lee took us by a few cop stations/fortresses.I wanted a picture so as we came up on them Lee would say here it is on your left,get ready,I'd role down the window,there it is,go,go,and I'd snap a picture as we sped by.We were half convinced we were going to get pulled over and arrested or shot at by snipers.We must have looked pretty dodgy,a car speeding by a Belfast cop station with a camera lense stuck out the window.
Then we were off,to Galway and the big reunion.6 and a half hours later we entered the Galway city limits,the bee gees blaring from the car stereo and a back seat full of booze.It was a weekend I'll never forget, that went by far far too fast.

Quote of the week:'Those are Uri Gellers.He loves his spoons.Take away his spoons and he cries like a baby.Motherf£%$&*! spoonlover!'
Michael Jackson
from Bo Selecta