Dublin

Since we seemed to be the only people in the wee development of holiday homes, we decided that instead of just me buggering off to Dublin for a drink with some random bloke I met off the internet, that we'd all go. The Travelodge was happy enough to change the booking and it cost nothing extra. So we all piled into the car and drove north for a wander around the city. They might be broke but it's still a fine wee city with enough of a studenty, arty, cosmopolitan air to avoid being just another city with exactly the same shops as everywhere else. Touristy things were done around Temple Bar and along the boardwalk, lunch was eaten in Botticelli and a wee walk around Grafton Street and St Stephen's Green.

The curiosity of the day was the most miserable street "entertainer" I've ever seen. A young lad making huge bubbles that, naturally enough, kids would chase and burst. But in the half hour I stood watching him (and the weans chase his bubbles, while Mandy was in Dunnes buying new trainers for Ewan) did the grumpy get crack a smile or encourage the kids or show any other signs of being an "entertainer" rather than a bus conductor? No. Did he get any money. No, he did not.

After tea at Eddie Rocket's I left Mandy to the joy of bedtime and took a wander up the road to meet this great big gobshite for a beer and in fine style we managed to park our arses on stools by the bar, drink Guinness and talk crap all evening. Just like old mates except I'd never met him although I knew him. Kind of. It's like that this Blipfoto lark. The best bit.

The walk back sobered me up nicely.