Dun Laoghaire Blipmeet

Chust the bestest of days. The 8:10 from Edinburgh to Dublin and then a taxi ride over to the South Side with our driver Paul. A man who detested cyclists, women, funerals, posh people. Everyone. Equally. Bastards.
But at least he dropped us off safely rather than murder us; at the faded grandeur of Claremont House with our delightful family room. A bag drop and off we did step. To the seafront, there to meet Nic. What a lovely man he is. And what a lovely place Dun Laoghaire is, too. A cross between Portobello and Brighton. But neither has a place to compare with O'Loughlins. In fact, few places anywhere have. But that was after a trip round the library, a sit out at Wetherspoons where Insto arrived, and a meal which included Sicilian chicken in a pastry basket. The wonder of it all.
But then, O'Loughlins. How those pints kept coming out that kitty may remain forever a mystery. Later, there was a walk to the dark Harbour, a couple of beers sitting out at midnight and a dram for the road. B'jeesus as they say.
Many thanks to Nic, and Smith, Red, Insto, Jaybroek and BS.