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  Killarney, Ireland
Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Poor Jenny to have such a miser for a brother that he booked a flight a flight at 6.20am in the morning from an airport an hour out of town to save a few quid (actually £36, but the extra sleep would have more than covered that no doubt...).

So lovely sister that she is, woke us up at 2.30am, and drove us to the Victoria bus station so we could catch a bus out to the airport.

On arrival at Stansted, checked in in about 2 seconds (Ryanair don't muck about) and proceeded directly to security. Just as well - we got stuck in a huge queue, and got our bag searched. Steve's jar of Marmite (courtesy of Jenny) was considered a terrorist threat and confiscated. To make matters worse, the man confiscating it said he hated marmite and that it would be incinerated. Is there no justice in this world?

The flight was very nice and smooth, and we landed about 10 minutes early, despite taking off about ¼ an hour late - they must add in a hell a lot of time to compensate for delays on the ground.

Seeing Steve and Sophi was great - hugs for everyone, before Steve thrashed his little Fiat Punto within a few revs of its life and sped us toward home, giving a running commentary of the sights on the side of the road that was thoroughly believable to our sleep deprived brains, despite being complete and utter BS. When he mentioned a garage at the back of one of the houses in the middle of the country being the most popular nightclub in town, where they throw some straw on the floor and have a ho-down, we finally got it (actually we flatter ourselves, Sophi had to tell us this was a lie - even lack of sleep can't be used as an excuse for that level of gullibility!!)

In town, we had a quick look at the main street (basically pub, shop, pub, shop, pub, pub etc) before getting the necessaries for a huge breakfast, which we were to find was to be washed down with some fine Irish cider. Sinking the first couple of pints at 8.30am wasn't so bad, when you considered we had been awake for 6 hours already!

Sam's usual gluttony had a serious foe this morning - despite warnings from friends at home after they experienced an identical incident in Africa, Sam decided he couldn't be bothered walking the 5 steps to the kitchen the night before, and swallowed his Malaria medication without a glass of water.

What resulted was Sam waking up a couple of hours later with a burning throat - countless glasses of water and a few slices of bread later, he was confident the tablet had gone down, but he was left with a burning throat for the next 2 days.

To get to the point finally, what this meant was eating every mouthful of the delicious breakfast was a painful - had it not been so fantastic in taste it would have had the better of him.

The rest of the day was spent lying on the couch watching sitcom re-runs, drifting in and out of sleep. Sophi left for work at 12, although I don't think any of us registered until about 2 hours later.

The pints kept flowing and we met Steves friend Niall for the first time, and convinced him to come out with us for a few quiets later that evening.

Later that evening we went out in the cold to the first of many stops, and many Guinnesses and Bulmers. Sam stuck with Guinness the entire evening, but the first 2 were pretty tough - Guinness drinking for the novice is like drinking a Weetbix and Marmite smoothie. As the hours past, the drinks went down more easily, and conversation become louder, more fanciful and (for Sam at less) more slurred. At about 2.30am the last club shut, and we stumbled across the road to the 'chipper'.

The walk home wasn't so chilly with our beer blankets, and Sam can recall a few leprechaun heel kicks being thrown in their by members of our party on the way home!

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