In all the years I've been travelling, flying around the world most flights have been rather trouble-free. I've had the luxury of an almost empty plane from Istanbul to London and I've had the earsplitting flight from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing next to a screaming baby. It's the luck of the draw.
My flight from London Luton to Dublin, however, may have been one of the worse. I was sat beside a monster of a man. Big, fat and of course he had B.O. Of all the Lynx Africa gift sets handed out on Christmas Day, he didn't get one of them. Being home over Christmas I had noticed that I'd put on a few pounds, but sat next to this chunky lad I felt like a slender catwalk model. At the time I felt guilty about second helpings on Boxing Day and helping myself to the tin of Quality Street, but beside him, I felt like I needn't have. He was also sat in the middle seat with me squashed against the window. When we took off the chap sat in the aisle seat moved to free up a seat, but he never moved up. I remained squashed against the window for the duration of the flight. Thankfully it was just a 40-minute flight.
"Why is it I get the same luggage allowance as a guy who’s 40 stone? We’re both allowed to carry 32 kilograms on the plane. I want to go 'no, he used up his 32 kilograms on his tits!'"
Ricky Gervais
I was mainly in Dublin to catch up with some good friends. Joe, who I've known since year 3, and his girlfriend Aisling. They came out to visit me in Beijing, the least I could do was get a £12 flight while I was home. And Susie, my drinking buddy from Korea. We all caught up on Friday night with a Guinnesses (is that the correct plural or is it Guinnees?)
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| Aisling not pictured |
The following day I dragged Aisling and Joe to the Whiskey Museum for a tasting tour. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but as neither Joe nor Aisling like whiskey I can't help but feel a little bad. It was an informative tour too. For example, did you know, the Irish were the first to make whiskey and, at one stage, produced 70% of the world's whiskey? There were also illegal operations that were producing such batches that were making people blind and putting people into comas, so it wasn't all a big song and dance.
Across the street from the museum was the famous Trinity College, although I still reckon Nottingham Trent is far superior. Trinity has famous alumni such as Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, and Mary Robinson but that pales in comparison to Mike Parry, Richard Bacon, and Matt Berry.
Joe then dragged me to the pub to watch Liverpool play and even forced me to have a few more Guinnesses. Being forced to watch Liverpool was made a lot easier as they pummeled Tottenham Hotspur.
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| Walking around in standard Dublin weather |
The night out had just begun as we ambled the streets of Dublin, drinking in their fine establishments (even the overpriced Temple Bar region).
We met up with a few of Aisling's friends. I heard many moons back that Irish people love it when you imitate their accent and then tell them that you're Irish through your grandmother, so I got those in early with the friends and I could tell they were very impressed.
We went to a place that was full of youngsters. I'm 30 now (although I don't look a day over 26) and I started to wonder if I was getting too old for this Saturday night out malarkey. I looked around this trendy bar that had a house party feel to it. Each corner had young couples snogging in it, which made me livid as not one girl in there wanted to get off with me.
Joe sensed my anger and we drank up and left. We went to an "over 28s" bar which I had mixed feelings about. First of all, it was an admittance of getting older, but the bouncer asked to see my ID, which hasn't happened in years.
Once inside, I realised that we were the youngest ones there and everyone middle-aged woman wanted me. I had the fewest grey hairs and the smallest gut. I was a desirable piece of meat and I loved it.
The place got busier and busier. My insides were feeling the full day of drinking. I can only manage about 6 or 7 pints of Guinness before the stuff makes me too bloated, at which time I move on to lager. When I've had enough of that I move on to gin and tonics to show the ladies I've got a sophisticated side too. The thing is we drank for so long in Dublin that I drank through to the other side of G&Ts too and had to move back to whiskey. It was 5am and I told Joe it was time to go home. You can imagine the disappointment in the ladies when the prize bull trotted off home. (Do bulls trot?)
Sunday was a day of relaxation and detoxification (for the day time at least). We strolled down the quayside in Dún Laoghaire and the winter breeze was refreshing.
On the day I flew out, I saw in the news that Storm Brendan was blowing through Ireland. There isn't much representation of Brendans out there and the famous ones don't do us many favours. Brendan Rodgers is the real-life David Brent. Brendan from Coach Trip is the only man camper than Louie Spence, and the less said about Mrs Brown's Boys' Brendan O'Carroll the better. Storm Brendan blew in, delayed my flight and then moved over to England to cause more disruption there. Another good PR day for Brendans everywhere.
