Exploring Dublin

We set off early the next morning, after the obligatory "full Irish" - a huge cooked breaky up in the older part of the hotel.

First stop was Trinity College and the Book of Kells, which is housed in the Old Library Building. The exhibition is fascinating - it explains how books written in 800AD were constructed. It was all very manual, detailed work!

It also outlined the symbology behind what is considered to be "one of the most beautifully illustrated manuscripts in the world".

We then checked out the Long Room, the main chamber of the Old Library. Rows of dusty old books lined the two tall levels of the library. We wondered what sort of books this library housed.

Finally, booked out, we jumped on the Dublin city bus tour and did a lap round all the main sights.

While we passed the iconic Guiness Brewery, we decided not to throw down a pint at 11am, even though as Dad would say, it's midday somewhere in the world.

The bus tour finished back down on the River Liffey, just opposite the Temple Bar - a snazzy pub-filled area where we hung out for the rest of the afternoon, listening to Irish bands. The Irish are a fab bunch - cheerful and friendly, and full of life.

Several tow-tapping hours later, we headed back out to the hotel and had a quiet drink in the bar. In keeping with the rest of the style of Clontarf Castle, the Indigo Lounge was stylishly decorated. The huge red chandeliers really set it off.



We had planned to head back into town for dinner, but our colds had taken over and we both felt pretty grim. We attempted to book into the castle's Farenheit Grill, but it was booked solidly until 10pm.

So, we chomped into a room service meal and got to spend even more time in the comfyest (is that a word!) bed on the planet.

A winter weekend in Dublin - a Celtic castle

For Ant's Christmas present, I planned a winter weekend in Dublin - his first time to Ireland.

On a freezing Friday night in February, we two cold-stricken vegemites flew over to the Emerald Isle.

My big surprise was a stay in Clontarf Castle - the pics on the website looked fab, and I couldn't resist staying in an authentic Irish castle! Here are a few of their promotional pics...



After a 10 million Euro makeover, the castle has basically retained the fascade of the original 19th Century version, and built an annex onto the back of.

The foyer has an amazing fire place and is really nicely set up - you feel like you're walking back into history.

We were shown to the room, and were presented the most ginormous bed I've ever seen. I've seen king size beds before, but not one so tall...we practically needed a ladder to climb into it.

The room was also really nicely appointed, with a thick fluffy doona (ok, duvet...), and a particularly nice touch were the red and orange light boxes built into the wall behind the bed.


























The bed was definitely the highlight of the room. It had a layer of that body memory foam over the mattress, and was pretty much the most comfy bed either of us had ever slept in.

To be sure - it's Dublin!

* The next six posts are about a driving trip Mum and I did through Ireland in May 2005.

TO BE SURE!

Mum and I arrived in Dublin mid-morning, and collected our trusty Toyota Corolla (an automatic). I haven't driven in over 6 months, and that combined with the less-than-clearly signed Dublin roads, extreme traffic, no detailed map of the city's surrounds, and rain, made for a nervous drive into town. But we got eventually there with some kamikaze navigating, a few u-turns and some near misses...:-)

Once we actually found the Tourist Information Centre, we were able to get a map that showed roughly where our first B&B was - at Clontarf, just 4kms from the city.

We had a typical oyrish lunch in a typical oyrish pub, and were quite surprised at the number of people out drinking on a Monday lunch time. Apparently any time's a good time to drink in Ireland.

After walking down O'Connell Street, the main street, we jumped on one of the city's tourist buses and checked out the main attractions. Highlights included Trinity College - a stunning old building that's home to the Book of Kells; then the Guiness Storehouse (although how people can drink that stuff is beyond me!). The Guide pointed out at this part of the tour, that Dublin's largest alcoholic rehabilitation centre was right opposite its largest brewery. Irish logic for you!

The guide then pointed out Kilmainham Gaol, the largest unoccupied gaol in the UK - how's that for a promotional tagline...

We drove through the lovely Phoenix Park, which is the largest urban park in Europe. As well as being home to Ireland's President, it's also home to Dublin Zoo. The guide pointed out that the Zoo has actually had quite a successful lion breeding program, most likely he thought, as a result of the similarity of Ireland's climate with that of the Serengheti.

Winding back along the River Liffey, we passed a pub at an average rate of 1 every 5 seconds. I was starting to feel at home.

After doing the loop on the bus, we found the car and yet again attempted to find the B&B, this time somewhat better equipped. More kamikaze navigating, swearing, squinting at the map, and a phonecall to our B&B hostess for the evening, we found our quaint little B&B and the even quainter Moira.

Moira looked like she was nearing 95, although was probably only 75, had the thickest Oyrish accent, and to be sure, she was lovely. Grand. It was all grand! Moira's house contained the largest collection of sentimental sh1te I've seen in a long time. Absolutely every surface was covered with photos, kitch little souvenirs, dusty antiques, stuffed animals, quaint signs and collections of god-knows what.

She showed us to our room upstairs, which was certainly neat and comfortable. And small. The "ensuite" actually consisted of a moulded shower no bigger than 40cm square and a wash basin. But it as warm and cosy, and had at least three pictures of the Virgin Mary looking over us, plus one of the Mona Lisa for good measure.

Moira helpfully gave us instructions on how to catch the bus back into town (I was *not* driving anywhere near Dublin traffic again that day!), and we got there in about 10 minutes. It helps when you know where you're going!

Even at 6.00pm it was still sunny - the nights are light until 9.00pm and later at this time of the year.

Mum was bent on finding a pub with Oyrish music, and the ever-trusty Moira had given us some tips. The Temple Bar area, just on one of the banks of the river, is great for pubs and restaurants, and within minutes, we were skulling the first of many cidars and listening to two blokes on guitars playing Irish music. Ahh....we were here.

Funnily enough, after several pints of cider and a good dose of Irish accents, you actually start to believe you are one of them. Mum and I started babbling in Irish, and were starting to be very sure of everything...the catchcry became "to be sure", and I guess we must have said that at least a thousand times each during the next five days.

Irish Stew and a typical fry-up completed our first very Irish day in Dublin. The copious amount of cider also meant that we had a few problems finding the right bus home - but that was only because Mum didn't trust my navigating abilities....we got there...eventually...to be sure!

Cork-ed!

DAY 2: The beds in Moira's cramped little rooms were surprisingly comfortable, and the light came streaming in at some very early time. Breakfast was at 8.00am, and this was where we met some of the other guests - an elderly English couple who seemed to think they were about to miss their flight back to Dublin, an American couple with a cute kid, and a Swedish couple who didn't say a whole lot. Oh, and a strange English bloke who also didn't talk a lot but sounded Australian. He was a bit offended when I asked if he was Australian...

Moira's breakfast room was more crammed with s*** than the rest of the house, including a photograph of Pope John II in a crowd - presumably on one of his many trips to Ireland. Anyway, Moira's brilliant breaky fry up hit the spot, and we started the tea-drinking odyssey that is Irish breakfast. I reckon we had about fourteen gallons of tea over the next five days.

We said goodbye to Moira, and with a few "to be sure's", we were off. The plan was to avoid Dublin and its notorious traffic, and head in exactly the opposite direction of where we were aiming to get to for the day (Cork), to get onto the M50 (a ring road around Dublin), which would theoretically bypass the traffic and eventually hook us up with the N7 - the main road down to Cork.

The plan kind of worked, and again with much swearing, kamikaze navigating, squinting and pointing, we somehow made it onto the N7, which turned into the M7 (a real motorway), and out onto the open road.

First impressions were of the green green grass and rolling hills. Buildings rapidly made way for sheep and cows, and we started to see the many ruins that dot the countryside - an old castle here, a bit of a wall there etc...some chunks of rock were probably just that - chunks of rock - but others were quite impressive, and probably had a long history attached to them.

The plan was to head down to Cork, via Kilkenny and Waterford. We sailed through County Laois, which we'd never heard of, and into County Carlow and the sleepy little town of Carlow. Looking back, Carlow was one of the divier places we visited but as we had to drive right through the centre of it anyway, we couldn't help notice the brightly coloured buildings and quaint pubs. Little did we know that almost *all* Irish towns are like this...

So we oohed and ahhed over cute Carlow, got the hang of the car (blinkers and windscreen wipers were switched, so there was much windscreen wiper action inadvertently going on for the first 100kms), and had a cuppa tea. Mum asked for a latte and got a blank look, then asked for skim milk in her tea, and was told that there was only real milk...clearly latte hysteria has not reached Carlow just yet.

We hit the road again, marvelling at the green grass, rolling hills, old chunks of rock, cows and sheep etc, and sailed into Kilkenny. More brightly coloured buildings paved the streets, but this was by far a prettier town than ugly ducking Carlow. It was quintessentially quaint - it probably helped to define the word. The doors on buildings were no taller than 5.5 feet, and there were barely any buildings over three storeys - well, accept Kilkenny Castle, which dominated the entire city, perched atop the local hill. It was quite a substantial chunk of rock.

The guide book deemed Kilkenny to be "one of Ireland's finest cities, full of medieval treasures and lined with brightly coloured painted Victorian style pubs and shopfronts", and indeed it was. Mum and I both thought this was one of the prettiest towns we visited.

We traipsed up the hill to the castle, along with hundreds of other tourists, and entered the very green grounds. We had to walk a good few hundred metres back from the castle to get the photo on this page. We then pottered around the Design Centre, which is actually a big tourist shop (although surprisingly good value), and I decided it would be fitting to spend the rest of the week driving round with Irish music bellowing around us.

For the next 700kms, "Timeless Irish Classics", a double CD containing hits like, "Danny Boy, Molly Malone and the Black Velvet Band" provided endless entertainment as we drove through many of the places referenced in the songs.

Next stop was Waterford, home of the famous Waterford Crystal Factory - this we avoided, but the township of Waterford itself was quite pleasant, and had quaint little cobbled streets and more brightly coloured shops.

From there, we sailed though County Waterford, through yet more green rolling hills, and out to the coast at Dungarven. This was our first citing of the coast since Dublin, and barring the vast mudflats, it was fairly scenic.

Timed to perfection, we arrived in Cork City bang on peak hour, but I did actually have my bearings pretty well sorted, having been there in February. The B&B was actually on the city map we had, which made things much easier - accept for the weird Irish house numbering system and the fact that street names on the streets bare little resemblance to the street names on maps...

Anyway, John, the B&B host for the evening welcomed us, outlined the breakfast schedule and pointed us on our merry way, into the city.

We were keen to hear Irish music, which doesn't actually seem to start before 9.30pm-ish in any given pub. Dinner this night was in a very oirish pub called Clancey's, and again cider featured prominently. I also introduced Mum to tot hoddies...or hot hoddies..whatever...the barmen understood.

To wile away time before the band started, I challenged Mum to a limerick competition. We each had to come up with limericks that mentioned the other person's name, by the time we got to County Limerick in a couple of days. This she accepted, and we began working on our limericks there and then. Here's a taste of our literary talent....we'll add more soon:

** From Robyn **
I do have a daughter called Mel
Who had too much cider and fell
She got up again and said
"Oh what a pain,
Do they have this great stuff in hell?"

** From Mel **
There once was a woman called Robyn
Who flew RyanAir into Doblin (go with me here!)
She saw Waterford, Cork and Kinsale
Her navigatin' never did fail
Although her head in the cider was bobbin'.

Funnily enough, all of our limericks revolved around alcohol. To be sure. Anyway, it kept us amused till the band began to play.

And they were excellent - possibly better than the Timeless Irish Classics if the truth be told. They did some jigs, sang some songs, and then got the audience up to attempt to do some irish dancing. Imagine the consequences of copious cider mixed with rapid dancing and lots of counting, tricky steps (like turning your partner), and foreign tourists not being able to understand the band dude's thick oirish accent....somewhat disastrous, but very very funny. We tripped our way through the rest of the evening, and headed back down through a very crowded high street, and back to the comfy B&B.

We were getting the hang of this place called Ireland.

Anti-clockwise around the Ring of Kerry

DAY 3: The day began with grey skies and drizzle, so we decided not to do a walking tour of Cork city, but headed straight out to the Blarney Castle, just north of the city.

The castle was built in the 15th century and is in pretty good condition for such an old chunk of stone. The grounds surrounding the castle were green and gorgeous, and there were far more flowers than when I was there in February.

We climbed the cramped spiral stairs to the top of the Castle, which gives a great view of the countryside, and the very cute township of Blarney. Having already kissed the Blarney Stone, I didn’t feel the need to do it again, but it was amusing listening to some of the American tourists talking about how unsanitary it was to have several hundred (or thousand) people kiss a small bit of rock embedded into the side of the castle. Mum also passed, but did manage to get some completely unflattering photos of other people doing it.

There’s a coffee shop in Blarney that does the best hot chocolate, so we camped there for a while as the rain really started to fall.

It rained pretty much the whole day. The cows, sheep, cute coloured buildings and old ruins out in the fields kept us amused, and our Timeless Irish Classics bellowed through the car. We were starting to learn the words, and they seemed so fitting:

“Oh grey and bleak, by shore and creek,
The rugged rocks abound.
But sweeter green the grass between
Than grows on Irish ground.”

We drove through the small town of Macroom and into Killarney, which is one of the biggest towns outside of Dublin, Cork, Galway and Limerick. Its proximity to the Ring of Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula mean it’s perennially packed with tourists and coaches. But its narrow cobbled streets, great little pubs and craft shops give it heaps of character. Coincidentally, almost all of the towns starting with K were the nicest.

After a long walk through Killarney, lunch and some souvenir shopping, we headed on our merry way round the Ring of Kerry, anti-clockwise. We’d been told that the roads around this area were crap, and that we were likely to have to share them with the bwzillions of coaches that take tourists on day trips. Our plan was to get halfway round The Ring that afternoon, and beat the coaches that would start from Killarney the next day.

It was a shame that it was such a drab day, and that the fog was low – because it was obvious that the scenery would have been spectacular. We drove round windy little cliff tops where green hills met the North Atlantic Ocean off the wild west coast. Not being able to see much, we kept driving to a little town called Cahersiveen (pronounced car seveen) and decided to stay there for the evening. It was a quaint little town where the “highway” rambled through the main street. It’s quite extraordinary to see buses and trucks pass each other in these narrow little passageways.

By about 4.00pm, it was windy, wet, freezing, and time for a cider. The barmaid gave us tips about the best place for dinner – a pub just down the road from hers. We found the B&B, which our host had pointed out, was on the “car ferry road”.

The B&B was great – it had a large glass conservatory as the guest’s sitting room, and the room was warm (although you had to run around in the shower to get wet – Irish water pressure is not so good). We got chatting to a British couple who were staying there for the evening, and then a scary looking German family (think middle age punk rocker types with one child) came in too.

We didn’t realise that seafood would be plentiful in Ireland (despite it being surrounded by water….duh!), but we had the yummiest salmon dinner that night. In fact, Mum had salmon every night.

The old pub was cold and dimly lit, but we parked ourselves in front of the fire to thaw out, and asked the barmaid how her town’s name was pronounced. The Irish people are awesome – so friendly, and much less formal than the English…

With a few more ciders under our belts, we called it quits and had an early night, keeping our fingers crossed for better weather!

County Clare and Ladies View

DAY 4: To be sure, the rain stopped, and although it was cloudy, the view of countryside around Cahersiveen was much better than the day before.

Brigette, Eilish’s daughter, was a cute little kid who served us our full oirish breakfast. Mum asked what she usually had for breakfast, and she said in an even cuter oirish accent “Aww, cereal or sometimes rashers (of bacon).” The temptation to ask silly questions just to hear Irish people talk, was often too great to resist.

After breakfast, we made friends with Brigette’s cat Bingy. Bingy was a very affectionate cat, who wound itself round our legs and demanded to be patted for 20 minutes. Mum, who was suffering cat withdrawal symptoms (having not seen her “girls”, Misty and Pixie, for over two weeks) gave Bingy all the attention he demanded – to the point where he was doing that weird cat-going-sideways-in-ecstasy thing. They actually needed to be separated with a crowbar.

We set off for a quick squizz of the small pier where ferries take passengers over to Valencia Island, about a kilometre off the coast of Cahersiveen.

Then it was back onto the Ring of Kerry and onto some more bendy cliff-top roads. If you get stuck behind a truck or coach on these roads, you’re more or less stuffed – or at least reduced to a snail’s pace.

Fortunately there wasn’t a lot of traffic on this road, and other than a few sets of roadworks, we had a pretty good run. The landscape got rockier, and a couple of times we had to stop to let sheep cross the road. This was the clichéd Ireland I was looking for!

We stopped for a cuppa at a lookout called Ladies View. It looked out to a scenic valley where some of County Kerry’s biggest lakes converged.

Earlier, we had decided that if we could get a decent drive in today, and get quite a way up the coast, we could visit the Cliffs of Moher and Galway the following day.

We completed the Ring of Kerry loop and bypassed Killarney this time, heading north to Tralee for lunch. It was a larger town than Killarney, perhaps with a little less character and more traffic.

Parking in most Irish towns is a complete disaster. This is without doubt one of the country’s biggest problems – there are simply too many cars on the roads for the cities to cope with. Parking stations are packed, streets are crammed with cars parked on the sides, and it’s really quite tedious to get across town.

The green hills of County Kerry sailed by, as we drove up to the Shannon River Estuary, and to a car-ferry at Tarbert. We only had to wait about 20 minutes for the next ferry to take us over to Killimer in County Clare.

County Clare seemed even greener than County Kerry, and we stopped in the cute little town of Kilrish for the ritual afternoon cuppa. I guess the greener a place is, the more rain they’re likely to get, and as if on cue, it started drizzling again.

We then headed further west and up the coast road via Kilrush, Doonbeg and Kilmurry, through Milltown Malbay, and into what we thought was the pick of the villages for the evening – Lahinch.

Lahinch’s beach makes it a popular resort town for surfers, and it’s also known for its traditional music.

The B&B was about a kilometre out of town, so we backbashed for a while before heading back into town for a pub dinner. Another pub across the road had an Irish band playing that night, and a few hot toddies kept us going until the band started. I’d never really been into traditional Irish music, but listening to it for 8 hours in the car each day, and then again in pubs at night has really changed my mind. I’m an Irish music convert!

The band was excellent, and as we left the pub, the heavens opened up and the green green hills of County Clare were watered once again.

Roaring winds at the Cliffs of Moher

Day 5: The plan for today was to check out the Cliffs of Moher, head inland and north up to Galway via Kinvarra, and then down to Limerick.

We'd checked out the B&B book, and Mum happened to spot a castle in a town just out of Limerick. I didn't think we'd have a snowflakes chance in hell of getting a room in a castle for the night, but when I rang, they said they had availability. So we booked, and spent the rest of the day wondering what this castle would be like.

The day was fairly fine, although windy, and as we crawled up bendy narrow country roads behind another heavy truck bound for roadworks, the wind really kicked in. The poor moos were walking sideways...

We got to the Cliffs of Moher carpark and donned jackets and scarves. It was blowing a gale - I guess the weather on this very exposed coastline copped a lot of rough weather and high winds.

The Cliffs of Moher were awesome, and we ploughed through the wind up to an old light-housey sort of structure on the top of the hill. I really thought we could have been blown off that hill! But the view was worth the chill factor.

To the strains of increasingly familiar "The Irish Rover", we drove down into lush green countryside, through a funny little town called Lisdoonvarna and into a picturesque seaside town called Kinvarra. I liked it because it had pink buildings. Mum liked it because she got to play with a ginger cat, and we had a hot chocolate.

Just out of Kinvarra, was the relics of yet another castle - Dunguaire Castle, which perched atop a hill overlooking the colourful little town.

The drive up to Galway was uninspiring, as we hit a motorway and lanes of traffic, all streaming into what we suspected was the 3rd largest city in Ireland.

Galway's a great spot - once you can park your car! Once again, traffic was rife and carparks were completely chockers. Driving round Ireland on a daily basis would be a complete nightmare. Galway has all the facilities of a large city like Cork or Dublin, but the charm and quaintness of Kilkenny or Killarney. It's old town weaved through the centre of the CBD, and heaps of people were out, walking the streets. It was a beautiful day - unbelievably sunny!

It would have been easier to spend more time in Galway, but we had to get back down through County Clare and into the midlands by that evening.

We passed through the towns of Gort and Ennis and stopped for a quick beer in Limerick, Ireland's 4th biggest city. We were both surprised at how big some of the cities were. When we entered the Squire McGuire pub for a drink (it was Friday afternoon after all!), a roomful of blokes looked at us as if to wonder what we were doing in their pub. To be sure!

The karoke continued as we drove south through County Limerick and into Tipperary (It's a long Way to Tipperary!). The small town of Bansha was another 20kms or so out of Tipperary, and we started to look for our castle.

Out in the fields, a large manor loomed and a sign pointed to Bansha Castle. Our bed for the night! Ok - so it was smaller than Buckingham Palace, and even Kensington Palace - but in much better condition than Blarney Castle - like it had electricity and carpet.

We drove into the large property and up a well groomed track to the main house. John, the host, was out mowing the enormous lawns, and came over to welcome us. He introduced us to Paddy, his gorgeous black boofy labrador and showed us into the house. It was without a doubt the best place we stayed in Ireland.

Our room was huge and there were about another 10 we could make use of - the lounge room, which was a vast sprawling luxurious room that backed onto a billiards room with a full size billards table.

The furnishings were perfect and small reminders of the castle's past dotted the walls. Hanging in one room, was a scroll addressed to Dr Russell - a former owner of the house and Doctor for the town of Bansha. The townsfolk had presented him with a scroll in 1945 on the occasion of his marriage in 1945 - it wished him well and talked about how fine a man he was. They were probably crawling,and trying to get into his will to get their hands on the gorgeous chunk of house we were standing in. I was certainly trying to work out how I could make it mine.

Dinner that night was down the road in the little village of Bansha. We had a choice of two pubs, and were fortunate enough to pick the one where a local wedding party was celebrating. I went to the bar to get drinks, and this leprechaun-looking little old man at the bar started chatting to me through a gummy smile. He asked if I was travelling...yes, I was from Australia, living in London and travelling with my Mum. Then he asked if I was married - the cheeky b*****! I said no. Then he asked if I was looking for a bloke - I told him it depended who was asking...Mind you, if he had had any direct ties to Bansha Castle, it might have been another story....

As Mum and I tucked into yet more salmon and cider, people from the wedding party started traipsing through the pub in their best wedding clothes. To give you an idea of how ridiculously inappropriate their clothing was - we had each worn our woollen coats to the pub. It was COLD! But these guests had strappy dresses and shoes - or the ones who bothered to dress up did. Others had jeans and shoes that looked suspiciously like sneakers...it was quite the country wedding! I didn't manage to get a look at the bride, but Mum did, and reported that she was about the size of a house and gave a speech.

There was also a fair in a park opposite the pub, and as we left, we saw several of the younger wedding guests tottering through the mud in those strappy shoes...really quite bizarre.

Bansha Castle at night was not at all drafty or cold. Much renovation work had made it warm and cosy, all in keeping with the style of its 18th centure structure.

I drifted off to sleep that night dreaming of dashing Irish princes...

County Tipperary and the castle

DAY 6: My prince didn't show up, but it was very pleasant to wake up in a castle. As we expected, the breakfast room was as grand as the rest of the house. All the silverware was out and breakfast was indeed a very civilised affair.

The breakfast room looked out to the back gardens, which were actually surrounded by the ruins of the original 17th Century castle. It was all spectacular. We loved the castle and everything about it. I want one.

Setting off, we did a quick lap back through Tipperary in case we'd missed anything as went sailing through the day before. We hadn't.

Then we set off to Cashel to see the Rock of Cashel. Rising 200 feet above the surrounding land and topped by a cluster of ruins, the Rock of Cashel is an impressive site.

A friendly guide called Moira explained that the kings of Munster ruled their lands from the top of this limestone outcrop from around 370 until 1101, when it was turned over to the church.

We walked though each of the five buildings - all religious sites - and through the cemetary. Moira explained the various legends associated with the Rock of Cashel. It is said to have been formed when the Devil, flying across Ireland in a great hurry, took a bite of the mountains in his path and spat it out in the Golden Vale.

A gap to the north, called Devil's Bit, is said to be a perfect match to the dimensions of the rock. St Patrick arrived in 450 to baptise King Aengus and his brothers. During the ceremony, the saint accidentally drove his sharp-pointed staff into the king's foot, but the king didn't flinch, believing that the pain was part of the Christian initiation rites. From then on, Cashel was also called St Patrick's Rock.

So...that's a very brief history of that particular chunk of stone. The rain started to fall once again - big drops this time...bloody torrential, in fact...so we decided to end our tour of Cashel and continue driving north-west back to Dublin.

This was our last day, and we attempted to play our 60 songs worth of irish hits in one day. I think some of my fondest memories of Ireland will be driving through the green countryside, belting out Irish tunes with Mum.

Compared with County Clare and Country Kerry, County Tipperary is a bit sparse in terms of attractions, and even it's towns seem a little more bland than other places we'd passed through. Abbeyleix, however, was a cute little town, that made for a good lunch stop. We had our 10,000 cup of tea and headed on our merry way back up the M7. We had planned to stop in Kildare to kill time before the flight back to London, but a quick loop through that town encouraged us to keep going into the airport. There was a bar there, after all!

The traffic going into Dublin was abysmal, and probably made us appreciate all the quaint little towns a million times more, now that we were back in the big smoke.

We dropped the car off and headed into the usual nightmare that is a RyanAir check in queue, and then headed for the bar. We had about 2 hours to kill before the flight, and fortunately, the FA Cup final between Liverpool and Arsenal happened to be playing. The whole airport was practically squashed into the bar, and flights seemed to being delayed all over the place as people craned to see the last few minutes of the game. It was hilarious! I've never heard so many announcements... "Would Mr Paddy Smith please go straight to gate 47. Your plane is waiting". This went on and on until the game finished (Liverpool won), and the second the final bell sounded, the whole bar emptied out as people rushed to their planes.

And so ended our six days in the Emerald Isle. To be sure, Ireland is a wonderful place and I would go back in a heartbeat!