Hiya,
So after last weeks entry I was very much anticipating my Gravediggers Ghost Bus Tour that evening however after a quick snack-a-roo en route to the stop in Dublin's City centre, Mr. Warehouse and I were saddened to hear the woops and roars of what appeared to be not one but two Hen Parties on board our tiny 30-something-seating double-decker bus. Now you guys know me, and after my messy Irish night out on the tiles with Mr. Warehouse I am never far from a party or two, but when your Hen Do is impacting on my ability to enjoy my last night on a romantic Ghost Bus Tour with my boyfriend who is shitting himself even before boarding said bus then we are really going to have a problem here!
Boarding the Bus and getting to know everyone on-board, being the day after Valentine's Day we were all asked who we were and where we came from. In-between dick jokes and more slanderous comments from the obtuse Hen Parties either end of the bus, the rest of us not partaking in the tom-foolery discovered that we had a very international bus load of anxiously scared passengers ranging from Italy, Canada, USA, Finland, Brazil, Germany and not to forget the Brummy and Liverpudlian Hen's - Of course they were from the part of England with the very worst of accents! Wondering if there was any possibility murder or sudden mysterious forces would force the chants and drunken "banter" to stop we commenced what would be an OK tour made worse by such inhabitants. Oh where was the Irish famine and Plague when you needed it!
Returning home that night and packing was nice as I knew in the morning after a glorious breakfast (of which it was) and a mooch around the shops, stopping at Pandora for the umpteenth time this trip we would be heading down to Callan, just outside Kilkenny on the borders of County Kilkenny and Tipperary in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland.
The journey by coach was long, a little over two-hours, but certainly shorter than going back the other way. Stepping out into the cold, wet rain of the tiny village I was waved over to a car that had come to collect Mr. Warehouse and I. Realising it was my Uncle I went to load our things into the car and get out of the rain. Heading along the winding roads I worried at how Mr. Warehouse and my Uncle would get along, especially since before Christmas at their first encounter with each other they had not got off to the best start. But I need not have worried for by the time we arrived at my Aunts Cottage twenty-minutes or so later they were getting on like they had known each other for years.
Settling in I helped with the dinner since my Auntie has never really liked cooking at the best of times, and besides, I had kind of missed it strangely. I suppose that is what eating out for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner does to your mind - Makes you needy for mash and cooking veg! Sitting down to dinner we chatted for hours and days even, continuously loop-talking about life in general and how to make the world a better place, righting all the wrongs back home in England with family, friends and colleagues as well as some important issues like trying to explain to my drunken Aunt and Uncle what a 'Gooch' is and what 'Teabagging' was in a context outside of the arts and crafts world.
The following days were spent mainly out of the area, visiting local points of interest and touring mainland Ireland. First outing was to Waterford, a small town renowned worldwide for its connection to Waterford Crystal alongside a fishing harbour, bordering County Kilkenny and Tipperary. I think I made the poor mistake of choosing a Latte when entering the Lily O'Brien's Chocolate Café. A mistake that right now I am regretting as Mr. Warehouse chose their luxury hot chocolate and after taking a sip I knew my coffee-infused decision, this time at least, was a bad one!
Second outing was one I was not fully committed to in the beginning, I will be honest, but afterwards was totally blown away and so very glad I was made to visit. Cahir Castle had stood in the little village of the same name had been standing there for over eight-hundred-years and as the rain drizzled I entered the courtyards and gardens of the small stone castle I fell in love instantly. In my head it was impossibly easy to imagine hiring the whole thing out for the day to host a wedding, where in my head I was the Princess Bride and Mr. Warehouse was the brave Knight. His dog could be dressed up to look like a gallant steed and I would try to resist putting Mother of the Groom in a Jester outfit. The lawns were perfect for my dream of vintage fair games like coconut shy's, candy-floss machines and hog roasts, whilst the great hall and 18th Century barn conversion would host 'Ye Olde Wedding Ceremony' and reception afterwards. Little rooms and outhouses provided perfect escapes for guests to explore the old ruins and make-believe for a day that we were all Kings and Queens. Upon my way out I knew I would regret it if I didn't ask so collared the guide-lady to ask about holding a wedding there - Obviously not for myself of course!? But alas you shall have to await as the venue does not currently hold a marriage licence yet and is only able to accommodate a blessing so I shall have to wait for my dreamy Irish castle wedding for another day - Well that and a time where I am actually asked to be someone's Bride!
Returning back to the cottage to help with firewood and the landscaping of a few garden areas in order to make way for oil/central heating to be put in (yes the cottage is really that old), Mr. Warehouse and I prepared to go home and back to reality and the following morning bid farewell to my Aunt and Uncles as we made the gruelling ten-hour trip back home to the 'Shire.
Indeed I enjoyed my trip to the Green Isle and back home I am now looking forward to my next adventure with the other half ... Maybe somewhere beach-ier though?!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
No comments:
Post a Comment