Corker of a St Patricks Day

The beer was black and the hair were red | 16 Mar 2006

Long weekend in Ireland for St Paddy’s Day got off to a pretty bad start. Craig decided to confirm our hostel booking the day we were leaving and received a reply saying they had no record of our booking and Kelly’s Hostel had closed down in October. I called the number on the net and a lady said the manager would be back in half an hour, a second phone called and the chap said the house was a private dwelling that was for sale.

Rang the Cork Tourist Office and they told me to call the Chamber of Commerce. Maybe they mistook the sentence “Is there any accommodation available in Cork” for “What would you recommend as an investment opportunity in southern Ireland”.

Rang Shelia’s Hostel (like cyclone’s, all hostel’s in Ireland are named after women) for some advice. It’s not often I put on the charm, but when I do even gruff Irish men turn weak-kneed and giggly. I told him our sob story and he replied “Well I’d been saving a couple of rooms for a sad story, and that’s a sad story”. Jammy bastard I am.

St Paddy’s Day was a blur of parades, Murphy’s Irish Stout, and the pastry so dense light itself could not escape.

The Weekend could also be known as "The Great Irish Flatulence Plague". Some may be shocked, but never have I smelt such a range of pungent odours in such a public environment. And they were largely thanks to our party. Elliot regularly let them go in the pub and then had the audacity to try and blame me. Anyone who knows me well knows I will always claim my own work, no matter what the repurcutions. Craig went further than I have ever managed to go when he bought Deb to near vomit (there was visible gagging from the depths of her stomach) in the back seat of the car with his 'smell of 1000 dead badgers'. There were also commendations from Steveo and myself, but nothing outside our usual range.

Saturday we all took a trip out to Blarney Castle to kiss the Blarney Stone. The idea is you kiss the stone to get the gift of the gab. Craig brought up the valid point that we should’t have to pay as we were clearly recharging the stone.

Picked up a car Saturday arvo for a trip round the south coast of Ireland. Stayed in a small fishing village called Baltimore. Quintessential stuff. Even had an Ernest Hemmingway lookalike in the pub.

Continued the tour on Sunday, with a trip around the Ring of Kerry. I was completely gutted. Expected porn, got beautiful scenery.

Locations Visited: Cork, Baltimore, Killarney

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