The Irish Experiance

Top 'o the marning to ya', 

Or at least that's what they say in Ireland. Haha. Anyhoo I hope all is well and good with everyone and it is safe to say that I am fully recovered and rejuvenated from my adventures of the lactose variety. I am now back home safe and sound and ready for a fresh new chapter ahead. Well Kinda! 

So after I left the House of Cheese last Sunday I whizzed back home, up my apartment stairs still dressed in the outfit from the night before, suspenders and all and rallied around my penthouse for my bag and all the other bits I would be taking away with me to Ireland. After making several trips up and down those god awful stairs many more times as a result of leaving something important behind I finally left in good time to make my train and grab a good old Starbucks before heading to the departure lounge. I was hoping to find a nice Irish fellow, maybe works in something fun like marketing or advertising to chat with on the journey. Maybe we would fall in love and he would invite me to stay in Dublin for ever and ever and live happily ever after under the shadows of the Guinness factory. Alas though this was not the case and after taking off late due to a delay I began to feel nauseous. Maybe my last night of passion had caught up with me? Nevertheless I tucked into my hearty breakfast bap from Starbs and let the oxygenated air knock me out for six. 

Landing in Dublin I knew I was already going to be pushed for time catching my coach from the airport to the village closest to my Aunt and Uncles cottage in Callan, County Kilkenny. Rushing past fellow flyer's and nearly pushing a small Spanish boy onto the luggage carousel in a mad dash to get through security I managed to get outside into the Irish air but missed my coach by mere minutes. 'Damn Spanish kids' I thought to myself as I begged for a Irish driver to detour and take me to where I needed to go. Thankfully a nice man let me on his bus and I headed for the city centre hoping I could make my connection there. As the city lit up with the evenings lights under a dark rain cloud it began to pour and the heavens opened over the home of the leprechaun. Just as I thought it was too late my trusty bus driver pulled into the coach yard and yelled at the now leaving coach bound for what I would call home for the next week or so to stop and allow me to board. The luck of the Irish 'eh?

After a long and winding journey through the Irish hills that seemed to roll on forever and countless attempts to get my phone to work in what appeared to be a completely foreign country (Thanks T-Mobile) I finally arrived at my destination. A local farmer friend of the family came to collect me and we made small talk most of the journey home. Letting myself into the small cottage I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the sights that had comforted me so many times before. Somehow I always feel like I am at home in Ireland. 

Settling in I unpacked and threw on some pyjamas in the hope that there might be something decent on TV like a film or such. Casting my phone aside and telling myself that I would deal with it tomorrow I flopped into the leather couch and prepared for my first night alone. In the middle of nowhere. Miles from the nearest neighbour. Where you can scream and no one will hear you. With no protection other than a blunt letter opener. 'Yes, I think I fancy watching My Little Pony tonight!' I thought to myself as I made sure that the front door was locked. Luckily I didn't have too long to enjoy my own company as I was joined the following morning by my Aunt and Uncle's dogs arriving back from the kennels. I was hoping that maybe now would be my chance to meet a handsome Irish man. No. This one I am sad to say was old and had a white beard to rival Captain Bird's Eye. Taking hold of the leads the large dogs, one a Pitbull type and the other a slobbery Dog Bordeaux, I could feel how strong they were. Pulling on the chains I shoved them into the house whilst I waved off my only communication for that day and collected the rest of the dog stuff. 

Snuggled up on the leather settee was where myself and my furry friends spent most of the next few days, watching reruns of Friends (In which I had never really seen before but now I am hooked and feel I now need to spend the next few weeks catching up on everything between 1994 and 2004). I did however venture out most days, oddly going for a run a couple of times. I know - I must have been bored. I did venture into the city of Kilkenny one day to see the sights and to have a cheeky shop in the knowledge that my bags had plenty more room to fill with clothes and shoes. Sad to say though by this point (Tuesday Afternoon I might add) I was already missing work and so this reflected in my shopping habits with me picking up several new shirts and a pencil skirt I shall no doubt return once home. Exhausted I headed for a bearded gentleman manning the information desk to call me a cab back home since my driver was unavailable for the week. After dialling for a taxi and trying with no avail to tell him where I needed to go I sat in the back of the large silver tin can hoping and praying that he wouldn't turn down a dirt track and try to grope me. 

Thankfully I made it home in one piece although robbed of forty-euros for the cab fare. The cheek! Apparently I found out at a later date that the journey in total shouldn't have cost no more than about twenty but how was a pretty little English girl to know that? Disregarding the incident I went about my usual duties for the week feeding all the animals on my Aunties increasingly growing collection of farm yard creatures. In total I was sharing my Irish retreat with four goats - One of them pregnant, a horse, several chickens, a rooster, a couple of guinea fowl and three dogs. Snuggling down under the blankets and with the warmth of the hounds we watched a film and then headed to bed. Soon enough though the weekend was upon us and I was greeted by the local farmer again offering to take me to the local pub up the road for a proper Irish knees up and a few pints. Obviously I obliged but had to clear myself of dog hair and the smell of oats. 

Donning my boots and 'Big-Boob-Bra' I headed out for a night out with the local lads. Lads however may have been an extreme use of the word. I think maybe the phrase I was looking for was of the more mature variety. Stepping into the quaint little public house I could tell how it once used to be someones front room. Warm and cosy though I stood at the bar and soaked up the surroundings. It was far from busy and I took shelter with my 'date' for the evening until I found some company. Looking around my thoughts were confirmed. I was not only the youngest in the joint but also the only female! Now most people would have thought 'Oh dear god no! They will harass me and try all there best 1974 chat-up lines on me?!' but not me. I revelled in the conversation about cow's and farming, even dropping in about my blog once or twice. 'I knew I would be a hit' I thought to myself as I spurred out all the old tales of bad dates and naughty escapades of a younger, less informed self. Rounding off the night I thought I might have to carry my farmer friend home but thankfully his wonderful wife came to collect us and saved me from a good four-mile trek home in the scary darkness of the Irish wilderness. 

Being woken up at the crack of dawn by the rooster "Cock-a-doodle-dooing" is something I shall never become accustomed to however on the morning following the Irish night out my head was craving for more time with the pillow. I reluctantly rolled out of bed, fixed my curls into pigtails and began the feeding of horse, goats and poultry. I did fancy picking one of the chickens up and just whispering to it "Nando's" but I thought that would just make me hungry so went back inside to find the CoCo Pops. Rounding off my week away I rose early this morning to make sure that all the animals were fed and watered and that the dog man collected the pooches before I headed off back to Dublin and to catch my flight later on that afternoon. And after all my in-vain searching for an Irish fellow I finally found one in the Kennel-boy. 

Pulling up in the silver van I could hear the Pitbull and Dog Bordeaux going mental. Not evening thinking twice I nearly ran outside to see what all the commotion was all about minus my top. Bare breasts to the guy that collects Mutts for a living is not the best first impression to give someone not to mention probably making the poor boy vomit and causing mental scarring. Huffing on a vest and joining the barking two-some outside I could see what they were barking at ... Woof Woof! Talk with wispy curly hair and a thick Southern Irish accent and I was sold. On top of all that (Yes please!) he worked with dogs for a living so no more bow-wow bashing. Handing them over to him I thought about crawling into the cages next to them and asking the young chap to take me for a walk! 

After watching my Irish farmer boy drive off up the lanes I waited next for my carriage to whisk me away to Kilkenny so I could grab a much needed coffee and some breakfast before boarding the coach again back to Dublin. Waiting at the station I helped out a African man struggling with a folding bike, unbeknown to me however it turns out I had made a friend. When questions surrounding my love-life arose I remembered how Mr. Cheese had said that African men always see a girl with no ring on her finger as a potential wife. Reacting quickly and not wanting my love-life to seem as tragic as it actually is I made up a story that I was engaged and that my fiancée whom I have lived with for several years after meeting at University in London, was buying the ring this weekend. It seemed to throw him off but left me feeling deflated and wondering when or even if I will ever get to that point in life. 

Trundling through the city streets of Dublin flooded my head with wondrous fantasies about one day living over there. Not permanently of course, I can barely leave my Tweedles for a week let alone a lifetime! No maybe just a year or less. You know, living in a hostel, working in a bar, making new friends and chatting up nice Irish men! What could be better. It got me thinking and I am now seriously considering a sabbatical from work to live out an Green Isle adventure. Finally connecting to Airport WiFi I completely miss read the departure gate for my flight and instead of being at gate 107 I was at 307. 'Im not going to Manchester?' I thought. Then it hit me and my Caramel Frappachino like a tonne of bricks - 'Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!' 

Running through the airport as they were making the call for final boarding I realised that not only do I probably look like a twat running but that I may become one of the disgruntled passengers I always laugh at on my favourite TV programme of all time 'Airline'. Finally arriving at the correct gate I flew through the check in and boarded the plane home. And so here I am now. At my trusty window in my apartment writing to you fine people! Safe to say though that my feet themselves will barely be touching the ground this week as I have to go into work tomorrow to sort some stuff out, I have the UnDate that we spoke of that I may have to reschedule as well as all the washing and packing for the weekend ahead. Weekend ahead you ask? Well I most certainly will not be going to Tiffany's to pick out an engagement ring with my future husband (Or maybe I will?!) No I will be crowning myself as an Indian Chief and getting down and dirty with the best of them. Mallet, mud-fights and cagoule at the ready - Next weekend is Reading Festival 2014!

'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx