an idiot in dublin


Friday, 13th October.
Quiz night at the Conway

Flying on Friday the thirteenth didn't faze me at all. I'm not the superstitious type. The sun was sparkling off crests and ripples on the Irish Sea, as the pilot announced that the temperature in Dublin was 6 degrees. Nice.

Sure enough, the weather was cold, turning to wet. I had the misfortune to visit the Irish Music Hall of Fame (don't go, it's rubbish), but spent most of the afternoon strolling the streets of Dublin.

In the tradition of Ian, I was staying with someone I'd never met before. (These people are so brave.) I met up with Niamh after she finished work, and went back to the Exclusive Suburb of Blackrock.

How to ingratiate yourself with the locals: Avid readers of planetian (hi Mum) know that I'm not exactly a drinking man. But by jingo by crikey I was in Dublin, I was in a Genuine Irish Pub (unlike the crap establishments that blight the Australian cityscape) and I was going to do the right thing as a man and as an Australian and sample some Guinness.

Ordinarily I describe beer as "undrinkable piss". Someone bought me a Guinness and instructed me to get it into me. Or something like that. After I had sipped away at the dark pint in front of me, I remarked that it was the first drinkable beer I'd encountered. Instant popularity.