Mike's Dublin Diary

Thursday, 29th November

Got an e-mail from Dave at 3 seconds to 2.18p.m. It read:

  > come to Wolfson bar afterwards, but they're not sure. If you like,
  come over to Argyle Street at some point this evening, or ring mine or
  Rup's mobile to find out what's going on.

  okay. I guess I could tag along with Rup and David while you're at the
  rehearsal. What happens with Amal?

  > What are you doing about sleeping? Are you staying at your's or
  coming to our's?

  I'll come over if there's room for a spawn-sack.
  don't want to miss any comedy this time round :)

  luv
  dave.

Those bits with arrows in front of them were from me by the way.

In the midst of the excitement of receiving a message from Dave, I almost forgot that I was due to meet Rupert at the station at about 3.00p.m. I'd been in correspondance with him whilst he was on route, so I should have remembered.

Work got put aside, and I left the office. I arrived at the station (not immediately, some time had elapsed). No Rupert. Rang his mobile to discover he was on the cycle bridge walking to my house. Very nice. We eventually met up and went to Argyle Street. After the usual pleasantries, we made our way over to the Grafton Centre, and sat upstairs with Cappuccinos pondering the prospects for Dublin. Rupert was sceptical, as he was unsure whether he could cope with all of the Alan applications. I thought he could.

Approaching five o'clock, we went home, as I had a band concert to prepare for, and Rupert had David's arrival to prepare for.

At 7.15p.m., I joined up with the minibus to take me to band. Rupert was waiting on David, whom we knew was on route. Dave had still not appeared, however. No surprise there. At band, we rehearsed, then we had a concert. I played some solos. Nothing spectacular, but solos nonetheless. It was to be my last concert for CUBB before stepping down as principal trombonist.

After the concert, I got into a row with Tom Price, as he wanted to drive the minibus back immediately, so he could return to the bar, whilst I wanted to stick around for a while. Not a lot I could do about it, but I joined the bus and got home fuming. Fortunately, David and Rupert were there, so I felt a lot better. They had been watching Martin McGuinness on "Question Time". Apparently, he'd been getting some stick, and was being called a terrorist. He kept using the stock phrases, "I totally refute that!" and, "show me the evidence!" It was very funny. Apparently, Dave had decided not to join us that evening, as he was stuck in work. Thus the first tradition had begun—Dave causing havoc on the first night and disappearing. He promised to arrive at my house at 6.30a.m. Much amusement was had. I packed. I rang Steve to check he was okay. I also rang Amal, but that happened at Wolfson earlier in the evening, and I've only just thought to include that, in pure Rupert fashion. Amal had had a job interview, and he was not impressed with it. We kept saying, "The Dublin experience has started. Dublin's underway, it's now!"

Shortly, it was time to punch the sack, as tomorrow was, indeed, the next day. Rupert, as usual, took the floor in the lounge. David took the spare bedroom, whilst I retired to my room, for the six hours sleep that I seemed to have before I was required to get up. I was excited, as it was Dublin in six hours time.

Friday, 30th November

At 5.45a.m., I woke up. At 6.15a.m., I woke up again. It took me a moment to realise that I'd been to sleep in the meantime, but I did manage to get myself out of bed. I made sure David was awake, then staggered downstairs.

Rupert looked as if he had been awake for quite a while. He was rolling up his sleeping bag and was fully dressed. I wandered to the kitchen and put the kettle on, to allow us a quick coffee before getting the 7.24a.m. to Stansted.

David came down fully dressed and ready for the day ahead. I put the internet on to quickly check trains and stuff for David's return journey on the Monday. I pointed out that he could go straight back home from Stansted, but he said he would then have to take his sleeping bag to Dublin. I said he could just sleep under the purple thing in his house, and this caused mass hysteria. When we'd calmed down, I said I thought that was a pretty good idea, then followed it up with, "Just like None of the Above". This caused more hysteria. We were once again benefitting from the well known adage that everything is hilarious when you're absolutely knackered and have just got up.

As we were recovering from our hysteria, there was a knock on the window. I looked at my watch. It was 6.30a.m. precisely. Rupert opened the door and there was Dave. Impressive timing. As he came in, David and I said, "Well, it's Dublin now. Dublin's happening."

As everyone was ready except me, I decided to get dressed, leaving David in charge of the coffees. Getting dressed proved easy, and I managed it very quickly. We sat with our coffees for about twenty minutes then decided it was time to leave. I picked up my mobile phone, walked into the hallway and rang Steve. He answered, and I said, in an Irish accent, "I'll put me coat on!" Steve was on route to Yeaden airport for his plane, so the first six of the Colonel's regiment (assuming Amal was also on route) were ready to rendezvous in Dublin a few hours later.

The four of us (minus Steve, who was in Leeds) left Argyle Street and wandered to the station. David and I began to annoy Rupert by telling him how it was Dublin now and Dublin was happening and all that stuff. We were shattered, but excited to be on our way.

At the station, Rupert and Dave made for the machines. David and I, who preferred to buy our tickets off people, queued for them. We were told we had to buy two singles to be able to use out railcards, so we just bought our outward ticket. Our train turned out to be on the platform. We were somewhat perturbed, but managed to push it back onto the tracks before getting on it and finding some seats. Rupert initially refused to sit on our table, as he thought it was a bit cramped. Fair enough, I suppose. I was reading "Black Market", by James Patterson, but banter was such that I didn't manage to read much of it. Rupert was reading some book by Robert Llewellyn, or the artist formally known as Kryten. Banter was such that he managed to read lots of it.

At 7.52a.m. precisely, the train pulled into Stansted station. Dave pointed out that the first exposure to British life that foreigners flying into Stansted had was the music, "Go, go, go, go, go, go, go" which played on the shuttle at the airport. We found that very interesting.

At the end of the platform, we found some escalators. At the top of those, there were some more. At the top of those, there was an airport. Relieved to discover it was Stansted, we went inside. It turned out that we couldn't quite check in at that time, so we decided to get a drink and wait for Amal. Whilst we'd been deciding that, Dave had disappeared to look in a book shop. I followed him. We were looking at Rough Guides.

I eventually persuaded Dave to rejoin the others and we made our way over to the cafeteria for some coffee. There was a smoking section which was outside the actual cafeteria but inside the building. We made for the non-smoking area, which was much better, particularly since none of us smoke. Very soon, this Sri Lankan guy with a cheeky grin walked around the corner, and we discovered that Amal had arrived. We greeted him warmly, and dragged him over to our table. It was good. Amal was very happy to be present, and we had a quick coffee altogether. We discussed possible destinations for mission three, and looked at the departure board to work out where we would be interested in going.

When we were bored of talking to each other, we returned to the Ryanair check-in desk, to discover that we could check in. We queued. When we arrived at the desk, we gave our booking number to the girl checking us in (whom Rupert quite liked) and handed over passports for examination. All sorted, we decided to organise a mission to Garfunkels for breakfast. However, Amal and David required some Irish punt, so I went with them for a brief trip to the Bureau de Change, whilst the other two ceremoniously disappeared.

Money obtained, the three of us made for Garfunkels. We were unable to find Rupert or Dave, so I told David and Amal to get a table whilst I went in search of the others. I eventually found them in some kiddies' arcade. Rupert was playing a beat 'em up game and getting beaten up. I told them where we were and returned to Garfunkels, where I sat at the head of the table. David was on my right and Amal was on my left. When Dave and Rupert arrived, Dave took up the seat to Amal's left and Rupert slid into the remaining seat to David's right.

I ordered a continental breakfast. David and Dave ordered the full english. Rupert, I believe, went for an omelette, whilst Amal ordered a simple Danish pastry and some orange juice. The order took some time, particularly the butter for my croissant. Half way through, David went in search of the toilets and was directed through some half built section of the airport behind Garfunkels. It made for an interesting visit, I'm sure.

Breakfast finished, and we all left the same way as David had, eventually finding ourselves back in the main airport area. With nothing else to do, other than Amal stopping to buy some carrot cream and some chocolates, we went through airport security (I was surprised not to get stopped by the metal holding my arm together at the elbow!) and went into the departure lounge place. There was a girl giving away free M and Ms outside a pharmacy shop. David wanted me to get some, but wasn't willing to get some himself, so we let it go.

The shuttle was in front of us, and, having missed the first one to arrive, we got on the second and headed over to the other terminal (terminal 2?). Upon arrival we walked to our gate and sat down. Everyone was waiting in anticipation of their first flight altogether. It was an exciting prospect.

After much delay, we descended the ramp, went down some stairs, came out onto the tarmac and climbed up the steps onto the plane. We were greeted on board by a cabin stewardess who looked quite bored.

The flight took off, after some delay. After more delay, a lady came around offering drinks. All of us declined, except Amal who requested an apple juice. As it was being delivered, I told him that you had to pay for them. He said, "you bastards, you could have told me!" David and I, both sat to his left, though it was hilarious. I relayed the information back to Rupert and Dave who were sat behind us, and they too thought it was hilarious. Amal handed over a two pound coin, to be given one pound ten back from the stewardess, and a promise that she owed him an extra twenty pence, which she would give him as soon as she had change. We began to speculate as to whether he would get that change.

Speculation proved unnecessary, because, after the plane had landed, it was obvious that he wasn't going to get it. (We passed a really cool island on the way into Dublin, which we thought would have been an excellent destination for a future break.)

We got off the plane at the back, and walked right past the stewardess who had ripped off Amal, but he didn't ask for his money and she didn't offer it. As we walked across the tarmac to the terminal, David and I said, "It's Dublin now. Here we are, in Dublin." We made a quick toilet stop (the first one on Irish shores), before heading over to pick up our bags. It took some time for Amal's bag to arrive, but once it had, we walked outside to wait for Steve. Amal got disgruntled that we had to wait and went to sit down.

After having waited for twenty minutes, David suggested that we take the 30th person to walk out of the baggage reclaim area, regardless of who it was. We counted. Number 30 was a tall blonde girl. We decided Steve would have to lump it, but he did appear shortly afterwards, so we were forced into having him instead. I walked up to him and said, "Excuse me, are you Steve Jones?" In a resigned voice, he said, "Yes" and I replied, "You dropped this, your Ryanair boarding card." I then said, "Good morning" and we tried to round everyone up. However, we were missing one of our number—Dave. Rupert remembered him saying he'd gone to find a cash machine, but we couldn't find him. We were contemplating leaving him, but he eventually showed up, and we walked outside to the taxi rank. It was crowded. Fortunately, there appeared to be some beast taxis that could take seven people. We waited for one. We got to the front of the queue and waited some more. Behind us, some random guy said, "There's more to Ireland, 'dan dis!" Steve joined in with the Alan Partridge quotes and pointed out that that was a good slogan for the Irish tourist board. David followed up on the Alan theme by pointing out that the old image of Ireland: shamrocks, leprechauns, guinness, toothless simpletons, men with eyebrows on their cheeks, horses running through council estates, men in platform shoes being arrested for bombings, rocks and Beamish was dying out.

At this point, our taxi arrived. The taxi driver seemed cool. He helped us put our bags in the boot, whilst we climbed into the back. There was only room for five people, however, and David grabbed the last seat, so Steve had to sit in the front with the driver. He passed us a copy of the Irish Sun to read on the journey. It was just the same as the regular Sun except for the word "Irish". The man began to ask us what we were doing in Ireland. Steve struck up conversation with him. It soon became apparent that our driver was the most obscene man in Dublin. He kept swearing at the "f***ing b***ards" that were driving on the roads, and kept saying, "you'll be f***ing wasted by two o f***ing clock you c***s". As the swearing became more and more frequent, we all found it hard not to crack up. The "f***ing" Liffey was pointed out to us as we crossed over it, then we were told that the "f***ing" Temple Bar area could be easily identified, as it was the only place in Dublin that had "f***ing" cobbles. His final thoughts were, "be careful about stepping into the roads, that's my only f***ing advice to you lads". He seemed unsure which hotel was the Trinity Hotel and which was the Trinity Arch Hotel, but he did eventually find the latter, which was to be our home for the next three days. It was on the corner of a road right next to the Temple Bar area, on Dame Street. Rupert paid the man, and we got our bags. Once he had departed, David turned to Steve and said, "you f***er, let's get our f***ing bags and get into the f***ing hotel". This caused much amusement all round.

Inside, we were greeted by a blonde haired receptionist, who told us that our rooms weren't ready, but we could leave our bags at the hotel and come back in a while. This we did, and we made our way to the f***ing Temple Bar area, for the purpose of finding some food, plus booking a restaurant for the evening meal. It was approaching two o'clock in the afternoon, so people were getting hungry. Just as we were departing the hotel, Dave decided it was a bit cold, and he might want to return to get his coat. I said, "Dave, we'll meet you at the Liffey." Steve followed up with, "yer, we'll meet you at the Liffey, like." Amal continued the trend by saying, "yer, we'll meet you at the Liffey." He then turned round to the rest of us and said, "Where the f***'s the Liffey?" This caused some more hysteria.

We met Dave at the Liffey, had a quick look at it and survived our first scare as we nearly got run down by speeding motorists. The advice of our taxi driver had come in useful. We walked back into the Temple Bar Area (which was indentifiable due to the cobbles) and looked for somewhere to eat. We soon found a place called "The Bad Ass Cafe", which was suitable to our needs. We went inside. I sat down opposite Steve, with Rupert to my left and Dave to his left. Amal was opposite Dave and David was next to Amal. Everyone except Amal ordered the lunchtime burger. Amal ordered some soup and garlic mushrooms in cheesy sauce—nice! I was unsure what a mineral was. It turned out it was a soft drink. I didn't understand why they couldn't say that. There was an interesting pulley system above our heads in the restaurant, which seemed to be used for taking orders, but, during our stay, we didn't quite work out it's full purpose.

The burgers and Amal's strangely coloured soup was consumed. Nice stuff. We also found time to consume our minerals. Re-mineralised, we left the Bad Ass Cafe, and went to find a restaurant. Our journey was somewhat uneventful, and, after much debate, we found a place called "The Elephant and Castle". Looked like a nice place to eat. Steve was appointed waitress liason officer, and, with Amal in tow, he went inside to book.

With our table booked for 7.30p.m., we returned to our hotel to wait for the arrival of Nicholas John Evans. On route, Steve stopped off to buy a U2 CD in a dodgy shop, were he founded a recording of a concert he'd attended in Leeds several years earlier. He pointed out that the CD was live. I pointed out that it wasn't, as it was on a CD. Dave pointed out that there were several levels of live if you really thought about it. No-one could be arsed to, so we checked in, and blundered into room 105 to do the room allocation draw. The four rooms were written down twice on separate pieces of paper, with the eight names in a separate pile. We each then selected a room and a name, with the two remaining in each paired off.

The results of the draw were therefore as follows: David and I were in 105, Dave and Steve were above us in 205, next to them were Rupert and Chris in 206, and on the floor above were Nick and Amal in 307. Everyone departed to their rooms—some were pleased with their room buddies, others disappointed. It was obvious that certain members of the group had hidden agendas, but they were playing their cards very close to their chests.

Left alone, David and I decided to get ready for dinner. I turned on the television to discover that all of the regular television channels from Britain were available to us, along with some slightly less conventional Irish channels.

David finished in the shower and I went in. Whilst there, our phone rang. It was Nick. He was in Amal's room. I got dressed and we hurried up to greet him. Good to see Nick again. Some chat was had before everyone left him to shower and change whilst we went down to the bar.

No proper tables were available, so we grabbed a bar format long table on the mezzanine. Steve got a round in, and we all toasted Dublin. Rupert was unhappy with his seating position between myself and Dave and moved. Nick arrived. More chat was had. More drinks were consumed. It was then time for dinner.

On route to the restaurant, David pointed out that, although we may feel as if we were complete, Moules had not yet arrived. We all became very excited at the prospect of an addition to our number later in the evening. Our waitress liason entered first, and we were duly shown to our table. It was a nice one by the window. I slid in next to Amal. Steve was opposite him and David opposite me. To my right was Dave, opposite him was Rupert and Nick slid in at the head of the table.

Food was ordered—nachos and chicken wings for starters. My main course was omelette, as was Steve's. David's watch word was burger, and that's what he had. Nick and Rupert had some salad concoction (by the time the food was being ordered, Nick had somehow found his way to the other end of the table opposite Amal), whilst Amal had some salmon thing and Dave had something of which I forget. I'm sure it was nice.

The starters were huge, and we gorged ourselves, particularly Dave, who had more than his fair share of spicy chicken. We didn't mind, except maybe Rupert, who hadn't had his fair share by any stretch of the imagination.

The wine arrived, and we got Rupert to try the red. He liked it. Dave was undecided as to whether to have wine, but the waitress seemed to have taken a shine to him and she persuaded him to try it. Dave did not notice this light-hearted flirting, but sampled the wine anyway. He liked it too.

The meal progressed, as did the wine and the toilet stops. Rupert was unsure how everyone else had managed to go to the toilet at least twice before he had made a single visit. We plied him with more wine and told him to forget about it.

At the end of the meal, we paid up, as, I believe, is customary in Dublin, and we walked outside into the Temple Bar area. It was decided to sample one of the local pubs, so we turned right out of the restaurant, walked along for a bit and found a pub. We went inside. Some people ordered Guinness. Amal sampled something he'd invented called "Vodka-shark". It tasted okay. We had some chat, but it was quite loud and we found it difficult to talk. Interesting atmosphere, but, just like Andersons, it was a bit smoky.

When the time got to 9.30p.m., we decided to retire to the bar in the hotel, as Moules would be arriving. We stood around there for a bit, before Steve discovered a new section of the bar in the basement. We wandered down there on-mass and discovered a really strange underground dance place, with lots of corridors and alcoves for chilling in. It seemed like an ideal place to wait for Moules, though David did think it was a bit loud, as he wanted to chat to people. He was probably right.

Rupert had disappeared, so Amal and I went to find him. We bumped into him wandering downstairs from his room. Happy again, we returned to the downstairs bar, to discover David Vine talking to our company. I then saw Amal cheer and embrace him. I thought this was strange, until I looked more closely and realised that it wasn't David Vine at all—it was Christophe Moules! I too embraced him. Finally the Colonel's Regiment was complete.

Chat was had by all, interspersed with people turning round to Chris, pointing at him excitedly and saying, "it's Moules!". A bit later, David decided he wanted to punch the sack. Some while later, Rupert too decided to disappear. I made my way up next, after spending some time with Steve and Amal hanging out on the dance floor with S-Club 7 sounding around us.

I was exhausted, and needed my sleep, in readiness for day 2.

Saturday, 1st December

Saturday dawned. A short while later, I got up. It was morning, so I decided to shower and then go down for some breakfast.

Once David and I were ready to leave, we left. A brief tour of the rooms confirmed our suspicions—only Rupert was ready for breakfast. We persuaded Rupert to join us, with the promise of Chris following shortly. We descended to breakfast, to discover there was a handy door halfway down the stairs leading straight to the breakfast room. We walked into a room seemingly devoid of life and selected a table in the corner. There was a small buffet arrangement with orange juice and cereal towards the bar area.

Some time later, a waitress came over to ask us what we wanted. David and I requested a full British Isles breakfast. Rupert, who thought that was grim, declared that he would make do with cereal and maybe some toast. Our breakfast arrived, as did Chris. We were delighted by the presence of not only black pudding but white pudding also. Steve descended to breakfast, with Dave hot on his heels, both requesting breakfast.

We pondered the day ahead for some time, before Amal joined us. Twenty minutes later, a somewhat bedraggled Nick joined us. Breakfast finished. That was good, because so had we. Everyone returned to their rooms briefly to deal with any business before returning downstairs to discover the draw for the World Cup finals was taking place in the bar. Well, actually it was taking place on the television in the bar, in Japan, I believe, but anyway, the point is, we watched it. There was some speculation as to which teams we would end up with. The organisers were dicking around quite a bit, so we decided to return to David and my room to watch the draw. As we got dumped into the same group as Argentina and Sweden, we all turned round to each other and said how typical it was. With only the final team to select, we left, assuming that we'd be drawn with either Nigeria or Cameroon (the only good teams in the remaining group).

It was decided to go to Dublin Castle, so we turned right, walked along the street for about ten minutes, crossed the road, walked through an archway, and discovered what appeared to be an early twentieth century building with a turret. Nick informed us excitedly that this was Dublin Castle. I asked where the castle was. We walked into the courtyard and Steve declared how amazed he was. David and I walked into a pseudo-phone booth to have our photo taken. I took a photo of Chris and Nick, but moved the camera to the right at the last minute to capture a comedy guy walking behind them. Coming to the conclusion that there must be more to Dublin Castle `dan dis', we decided to check out the gardens, so we walked back through the archway, in arrowhead formation (Rupert declared that he preferred the staggered line formation) and David suggested we got into all-round defence. This was turned down, so we walked to the garden. There was some kind of floor maze there, which was quite exciting, but it only seemed to have one route (as, I believe, old mazes do), so we walked to the water feature at the other side, and David tried to hug Rupert. We walked up some long ramp, which proved very exciting, then left the garden. I decided to take the long route, so got a bit behind.

Dublin Castle had proved far too exciting for us, so we decided to go to Trinity College instead. This brought cheers all round. On the way out of the castle, we nipped into the giftshop. David bought a disposable camera, and he and I bought two clocks for one punt each. However, the most exciting purchase proved to be a `Little Lucky Leprechaun', for the princely sum of two punt ninety-nine. We also sampled an Irish chocolate bar which turned out to taste exactly like a Boost.

It was time for Trinity College and, after Steve and David had some comedic pedestrian crossing antics, we arrived. It turned out to be free, but we posed as students anyway. Amal took a group photo in the centre of the main court, whilst Steve tried to persuade me to have my photo taken with some random girl. Nick pointed out that Trinity College was the final resting place of the Book of Kells, and this was worth checking out. We thought so, so we went to see it.

It turned out to cost four punt to see the Book of Kells. David had decided that that was far too much, so he said he wasn't going in. Chris had seen it before, and he volunteered to go and have a coffee (and cake) with him whilst we took in the Kells action. Steve and I were reluctant to pay, but we went in anyway. Inside the exhibit, Nick, Dave and Rupert entertained themselves reading all the info about the Book of Kells. I quickly grew bored—deciding I couldn't be bothered to read the required material. Disgruntlement soon set in, and I made my way through to the actual Book of Kells first. Amal and Steve shortly followed, and I could sense that they too were feeling it was a wasted effort. The Book of Kells was in a glass case and was open at a page with some writing on. That was about the sum of the excitement. We quickly walked up the stairs into some library which was above it.

The library proved to be very exciting. There were lots of heads of people in there, and a model of Trinity College, which I felt was far better than the Book of Kells. Steve found a donation box. We felt it was a little cheeky to have a donation box in the library when we'd just paid four punt to see the Book of Smells. Steve reached into his pocket and found a twenty centime coin from his recent trip to France. He made as if to put it into the donation box, but Amal stopped him, saying, "That's too much, Steve. Too generous!"

By now we had had our fill of the whole Book of Smells exhibit, so we left the building and made for the cafeteria. Soon, we discovered David and Chris enjoying coffee and cake. We were forced to admit that their idea had been a lot smarter than our's, despite the attached humour. Rupert, Nick and Dave were, however, clearly having the time of their lives, as it took them a further twenty minutes to join us.

Chris declared it was time for lunch, so he took the lead and we left the college. We turned left and walked up the hill. Chris spotted a Subway, and suggested we eat there. I spotted the lack of seating, and suggested we didn't. We walked past Marks and Spencer, and Amal noticed that they had a food hall. I went in to investigate, and discovered that they did indeed, have a big food hall—all in freezers and on shelves.

The disgruntled boys and Chris were getting a little disgruntled. We walked through a small arcade (at which point I stopped to give a small contribution to a rather good busker playing the flute), turned left and discovered two potential eating establishments. Chris was hungry, so stopped at the first. David was more aware, and suggested that the second one looked better, so we made for that. It was a sandwich shop. We bought sandwiches—David and I having the customary tuna. Upstairs, we grabbed two four seat tables, with myself, David, Steve and Dave sitting at one, and the others occupying the other. It seemed that Chris had ordered all of the food left in the shop.

We discussed the plan for the afternoon. Steve and David were desperate to see Schroedinger's house, yet Nick was adamant he would like to visit the National Museum. It seemed that a compromise was in order, and we decided to do both. Therefore, when Chris had finished, eating, we left the shop and headed South, towards all of the good stuff.

We had been walking for some ten minutes when Dave discovered a shop with lots of old books in. Without asking if everyone was happy with this, he decided to enter the shop and do some dicking around for a while. Steve, David, Amal and I waited outside the shop for a good five minutes, before deciding that we would spend a better five minutes if we left and let him catch us up. Just up the road, we discovered a big park. Across the road from this, there was a rather cool plaque indicating that we were standing outside the former residence of Oscar Wilde. David and I minced along the road as a touching tribute. Chris and Rupert had joined us at this point, but Dave and Nick had still not arrived, so we walked over to the park. Sitting on a rock just inside the park was a statue of Oscar Wilde. Photos were taken here, and eventually Dave and Nick did join us, having made a purchase, which we would discover more about later.

At the other side of the park, we found Schroedinger's house. David decided he wanted a photo of the physicists (myself, him and Chris) looking intelligent outside the house. We then decided we would also take a photo of ourselves looking stupid. The others looked on dejected. With myself, Steve and David satisfying our Schroedinger needs, we decided it was Nick's turn to have his way, so we made for the National Museum. However, along the way we discovered the Headquarters of the Irish Football Association. It seemed like a great opportunity for a recreation. Since Alan Shearer had just succeeded in getting Roy Keane sent off for throwing the ball at his head, this seemed like an ideal place to reenact the event. Therefore, I took on the role of Roy Keane, Amal duly sent me off and Steve stood in the background, taking on the role of a laughing Shearer. David caught the whole thing on camera.

There were lots of old `museum style' building in front of us, so we crossed the road and made for the nearest one. It was the Natural History Museum. Since it seemed as if it would be far more interesting than the National Museum, we decided to check it out. There were lots of Irish animals on the ground floor, including some big fish and a wide variety of insects, but it was the top floor that was the best, as that contained animals from all over the world. David and I spent some time looking for a guinea-pig, eventually finding it in the vicinity of the capibara. I presume that's cos they're both rodents.

A rare occurrence then took place—everyone got bored before me. Amal and I (having the most fun) finally dragged ourselves away from the museum to fulfil our promise to Nick.

After another long walk, we found the National Museum. David and I suggested coffee and, with Amal on side, we won the day. Amal was getting quite tired, and suggested he may return to the hotel for a lie down. Coffee and cake was consumed in the National Museum cafe, after which everyone left to check out the exhibits. David and I remained in the War hall, and found lots of information about the Irish Republican Army. Amal joined us and sat down, telling us he was bored. He said he was going to leave, and David immediately leapt on it, saying he, too, was bored. I was in two minds, but eventually decided that I really didn't want to stay, and would much rather do something more exciting. Decision made, we decided to inquire whether anyone else would like to join us. We took it that Nick and Dave were lost causes, concentrating our efforts on the others. To our surprise, even Steve declared that he would like to check the museum out. More fool him.

The three of us left, deciding to book a table for all of us for dinner that evening. Once outside, Amal turned round to us and told us how boring he found museums. He said, "Guys, have you ever been to a museum and not just whizzed straight through? I mean, you think you ought to read all that stuff, but you just can't be arsed!" This caused David and I to crack up, as we were in strong agreement, and we all made our way back to the Temple Bar area in high spirits.

We shortly selected a place for dinner—a nice little restaurant called "Mexico thru Rome", which appeared to specialise in Mexican and Italian food. The booking was made for seven-thirty, but we were instructed that we would need to vacate the place by nine. With this in mind, we pushed the booking forward to seven o'clock. We returned to the hotel and sat in Amal's room to wait for the others to return.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door, and David and I dived onto Amal's bed, pretending that the others had disturbed something. Steve thought the joke was highly disgusting.

We returned to our respective rooms for showers. The suggestion of sharing showers was made by Amal, so we could get through quicker, but this was declined. A good hour later, everyone was ready to depart for dinner. We met down in the foyer, as was customary, and made our way over to "Mexico thru Rome", our venue for the evening. We had been allocated a rectangular table attached to a circular one. I sat down on the circular one. To my right was David, followed by Moules and Steve. To Steve's right was Dave and to his right was Nick. Opposite Nick was Rupert, and to his right was Amal (who was therefore to my left). We perused the menu. David managed to find a burger/steak. The rest of us ordered fajitas in some combination. However, we began with a round of nachos. There was some fighting on our table as to who got the last of the dipping sauce. Naturally, Feihugger won. At some point during the meal, I disappeared for a pot stop. At this point, Rupert turned to Steve and pointed out that we could have booked the restaurant for a little bit later in the evening. David and I found out about this and were not impressed (given Rupert's dicking around at the museum earlier in the day).

Main courses consumed, it soon became necessary (after the obvious coffee chat) to depart the restaurant and wander round the f***ing Temple Bar area, which we duly did. We noted the classy swearing from the average Irishman on the street, which brought much amusement. We turned left and walked parallel to the Liffey. We found a sign which said "Buskers" and Amal, Steve and David impersonated Alain Prost in front of it. There was then a heated debate outside a noisy pub as to whether we should go in. Eventually, I made the decision and in we went. It proved to be a very crowded place, and we hung around the top floor for a good twenty minutes before we found a table. Steve started chatting this girl up, with little success.

The eight of us crowded round a small table made for four. Some of us had to sit on the window sill, which made it all very cosey. David and I ended up either side of a drunken Rupert, which meant he got lots of comedy hugs. Steve decided to take a photograph, and his girl from earlier ran across to assist so that Steve could join the picture. Top stuff. As the time ticked around to half ten, David decided he had had enough of the smokey and noisy atmosphere, so we left.

Whilst walking down the street, Steve surged ahead with his right arm raised in the air, by way of the first Shearer impression. This started a bit of a trend and the Shearer/Barthez impressions were born. David pretended to score a goal against Steve (playing the role of Barthez) and as he did so, David stood still and raised both arms above his head, Shearer style. Steve merely stood baffled and grabbed both trouser legs in frustration. Several other impressions followed, including Thierry Henry scoring against Barthez and Barthez passing the ball to one of the opposing team to allow him to score.

After several Shearer and Barthez impressions, we arrived back at the hotel bar. We went in briefly, but David decided he was tired of the smoke ridden hell holes of Dublin, so he went to bed. The rest of us left the hotel again for a quick trip out before bed. We walked back towards the Liffey and walked into another pub/club. It was crowded and we ended up standing on the fringe on the dancefloor. Dave succeeded in dropping his drink, which caused much amusement. Steve was slightly the worse for wear, hence he had the misguided impression that all the women in the bar were after him.

It was clearly approaching time for bed, so we wandered back to the hotel, had a mass on orm on David in our room, before I retired. The others returned to the noisy bar downstairs for an hour or so, before punching the sack themselves. Day 3 awaited.

Sunday, 2nd December

For the third successive morning I woke up in Dublin. Since I'd gone to bed in Dublin, I did not let that worry me. A short while passed and it appeared that David was awake too. We decided upon breakfast. A short trip around the rooms revealed that Rupert was the only one ready for breakfast. Chris was dicking around as usual.

The three of us descended the stairs and entered the breakfast room. The blonde receptionist from the first day was on breakfast duty and we put in our orders. She seemed as if she was in a foul mood, so we didn't push it. As David and I tucked into our breakfast and Rupert nibbled on our toast, Steve sauntered in. He sat down and the waitress came over to take his order. Steve asked if she could make him a bacon sandwich. Her reply was, "Well, I'll be bringing you some bacon and some toast, but I won't be making no bacon sandwiches". Steve thought that was reasonable and vowed to make it himself.

David and I were on to our coffee and orange juice by the time Dave and Chris arrived, and had finished everything by the time Amal and Nick decided to show their faces. We sat around discussing the plans for the day ahead. Apparently there had been some discussion amongst the dicking around boys to go to a place called Newgrange, which was in the countryside near a place called Drogheda. The disgruntled boys hadn't got any problems with this at the time, so we all agreed. As we were relaxing over our slow breakfast, the waitress arrived again. Getting straight to the point, she said, "Excuse me lads, but if you want to chat, could you go to the bar, we need your table". Short and to the point. We left.

After picking up the necessary equipment from our room for a day in the countryside, we met in the reception area and left the hotel. Chris and Dave began to fight over the map. We took a brief detour via some cash machines. When it seemed that everyone was ready to move on, Steve noticed Chris dicking around by one of the machines. Having managed for so long without dicking around, Chris could not, unfortunately, survive the whole break. Nevertheless, it was a good effort. It appeared that Dave and Chris did not know where the bus station was, but they managed to get us to the Liffey. At this point, David decided he wanted to pose for a "Water way to have a good time" photo, with Steve holding the drink. I took the picture, but blundered (as I discovered later).

The walk was getting frustrating, but we eventually did arrive at the bus station. When we got there, a glance at the board told us that there were no buses to Drogheda for two hours. Myself, Amal, Steve and David could not believe it. David was already talking about mutiny, and was winning Steve over. A debate ensued and Chris decided we should walk to the train station—a short walk further on. This we did. It was up a little hill, but we soon arrived. Lo and behold—no trains to anywhere other than Belfast on Sunday. To alieviate the obvious disgruntlement that was setting in amongst some of us, David got myself, Amal, Rupert and Dave to pose in line waiting for the Belfast express. Once we'd done this, we walked back to the bus station, maliciously ribbing Chris for his dicking around. Chris briefly blew his top, but we managed to calm him down by taking him to see a funny spherical sculpture made of barbed wire with a torch in the middle.

Back at the bus station, Moules stocked up on supplies. He and Nick had decided that they wanted to go to this neolithic Newgrange place (whatever it was), so we were going. David and I bought a couple of drinks and some crisps, whilst Chris bought out most of the shop. Steve made a quick phone call and booked at table at our restaurant for that evening—Luigi Malones, a classy Italian joint we had spotted on the first day. Amal was not looking forward to our bus trip, as he was scared that he may feel sick during the journey. With this in mind, I sat next to David on the left side of the bus. Amal and Steve sat behind us and Dave and Rupert were in front. Across the aisle, Chris was next to the window and Nick was next to him.

As the bus journey got underway, David and I let the Little Lucky Leprechaun wander around the bus. Rupert got very embarrassed, as he thought the Irish on the bus would be offended. Amal started to look quite pale. A little bit later, Steve lent forward and said, "Nevans is vomming". David and I laughed. Steve said, "No, he really is vomming". We looked across to see Nick bent over a plastic bag, being sick. Lovely. Fortunately, this bag was watertight, so Nick was able to hold the (now full) bag in front of him for the rest of the journey. It was a lovely sight. The disgruntled boys were approaching hysteria. Steve said to David and I, "If there was one person you'd choose to be sick, it'd be Nick." This caused us to laugh, and David said, "and if there's one person you'd choose to sit next to him, it would be Chris". More hysteria. As we calmed down, we pondered on the fact that we were being forced to go to Newgrange, and how we were unimpressed with the organisation so far. David then said, "I mean, an ASNAC voms on your bus. No manners, but what a critic!" We all burst into laughter for the next five minutes and David famously nailed the application of the break. Amal began to look even more pale.

We eventually arrived in Drogheda and Chris, who had been very good with Nick and the full bag for the entire journey, was glad to get off the bus. I said to Chris that it was lucky he had got a bag with his food. Chris then pointed out that he hadn't. Miraculously, that bag had been on the back of the seat in front when they'd sat down. It was the only one on the bus and it just happened to be in front of the guy who was feeling sick. Amazing.

Drogheda appeared to be a dump, but we did spot quite a useful Golden arches just across the road from the bus station. We thought we may be using it later.

After another short bus ride, which Amal and Nick got through unscathed, we arrived at a drop of point and saw a big neolithic tomb thing in the distance. David was disgruntled about the whole trip and didn't want to go in. Amal wasn't feeling too well and didn't want to go in either. We took a long walk on a walkway covered with creepers, and arrived at the visitors' centre. It was about 2p.m. David said he didn't want to go on any tour, cos he hated tours. I kept quiet, as I didn't want to cause a mutiny. Nick, Chris and Dave went inside and chatted to the receptionist person. David and I wandered over to find out what they were saying. Steve, Amal and Rupert were some way back, so were not yet aware of the latest development. It seemed that the next tour would get us back to the visitors' centre 15 minutes after the last bus went back to Drogheda, hence we couldn't go on the tour.

David and I looked at each other in disbelief and then burst out laughing. We ran outside and told Steve and Amal, who had just arrived. David then took a photo of myself and Steve cracking up outside the visitors' centre, next to a water feature. However, there were more developments inside, as we were to discover.

Dave and Nick were, by now, sporting orange tour stickers. It seemed that they'd made the decision to go on the tour anyway, for the princely sum of 5 pounds (or so). They would then get a taxi back to the Dublin bus and hope that they get there in time.

David put his foot down and said that he wasn't going. I said I would stay with him and Amal was quick to agree. Chris had already bought his ticket and therefore, predictably, Rupert moved in to support the dicking around boys, whilst Steve supported the disgruntled boys. It was decided that we would pay one pound each to wander round the visitors' centre and then enjoy some coffee and maybe food, whilst the others went up to see the neolithic crap that was Newgrange.

This we did. There was some kind of exhibit section which Amal, David and I just whizzed through. At the other side, they had a life-sized mock up of the inside of Newgrange, which was basically a short tunnel which ended in some underground blob. We wandered up it a couple of times for free (much to the chargrin of those that had paid 5 pounds for the privelege) and then exited. The others had left, but Steve had disappeared too. I was worried that he'd broken ranks and gone with them, but he was sighted coming out of the gents, so that explained that.

The four of us made for the cafeteria for a sit down, a drink and some sandwiches. We chatted about our decision and we each felt we'd made the right choice. After a nice relax, we decided to take a short walk in the countryside in the direction of Newgrange, since it cost five pounds less than a trip to Newgrange. At the back of the visitors' centre, there was a suspension bridge across a river. As we walked, we subconsciously got into time with each other, and the bridge began to vibrate violently. We thought this was excellent and vowed to have another go upon our return. We walked past the little buses that took people up to Newgrange, and walked up a hill. After about ten minutes of relaxing walking, we decided to return, as we were determined not to miss our ride back to Drogheda. We stopped briefly to take a photo of the Little Lucky Leprechaun in the road and on a tractor, then sitting on a post overlooking a field. A little bit further down the road, two traffic cones were sighted and I took a photo of Steve and David in a "stop telling me what to do!" pose. Back at the bridge, we tried again to make the bridge collapse, and got a little closer this time. Amal got scared and deliberately (or possibly since he's not got no rhythm) got out of step. We made it back to the bus and David said that he hoped the others didn't make it back in time. This hope was shortly revised to one of them arriving back just as the bus was pulling our, so that we could gesture as we got underway. The bus shortly left minus the other four, and we got back to Drogheda.

Feeling hungry, we decided to head for the Golden Arches for a quick Mcflurry, musing on the possibility of the others not arriving back in time for the bus to Dublin. They did make it—but only just. A taxi pulled up at the bus station about five minutes before the bus arrived, and the boys got out. Rupert seemed quite quiet, but we didn't pursue it. On the bus journey, I attempted to have banter with Rupert, but he was having none of it and I got a bit annoyed. The bus journey was uneventful after that, but the walk back to the hotel was not. Chris decided to put his oar into the me/Rupert debate on the side of Rupert. Having witnessed nothing of the argument and hence not knowing who was right and who was wrong, this was not wise, and I returned to the hotel fine with Rupert but not so fine with Chris.

I calmed down and got ready for the evening meal, as it was time for the destination draw—always a tense time. At 8p.m. we arrived at the restaurant. It seemed they had taken our booking to be one big joke, but they did seat us anyway. We were in the basement, which was nice. There was a hen party going on in the corner, but other than that, it was deserted. I sat down. Dave sat opposite me and Steve sat to my left. Opposite Steve was Amal. To my right was David and to his right was Chris, leaving Nick opposite Chris and Rupert to Nick's right. We perused the menu and everyone noticed the presence of nachos. It had to be done. Most of us ordered pizza for our main course, other than Amal and Dave, who ordered some massive 15 quid fish dish.

I grabbed some paper, ripped several pieces off and wrote numbers 1 to 7 on 7 different bits. That's one number per piece of paper, for the idiots amongst you. David passed me a wine glass so I scrunched up the paper, put them in the glass, shook it (as did everyone) and then handed it around. We all (excepting Nick, who was exempt on his first break) took a piece of paper. That would be the order that we revealed our destinations in.

Chris was number one and we looked scared. After his selfish choice of Barcelona last time, anything was possible this time. He spoke briefly. He'd not thought a great deal about his destination, but had been thinking seriously over the previous couple of days and had gone for Munich. NUMBER ONE—MUNICH.

Number two was me. I said that I was deliberating between my three choices of New York, Gran Canaria and Naples. However, for various reasons (New York and Gran Canaria being too expensive and Naples being rubbish) I had gone for Geneva instead. NUMBER TWO—GENEVA.

Nachos arrived and there was a short break. We then continued.

David expressed his desire to go to Scandanavia. He came second with Copenhagen last time, but he was going for Stockholm this time, and hoping for better luck. NUMBER THREE—STOCKHOLM.

Rupert said he had been struggling for ages to think of a destination. However, Greg from his office had been to this place once before, and it was just outside Brussels and it was nice (with good pubs). NUMBER FOUR—(just outside) BRUSSELS.

At this point, Amal swore under his breath and it became evident that he had also selected (just outside) Brussels. We had a short recess, since our main courses had arrived and it was time for us to eat pizzas. Towards the end of pizzas, Amal began to speak.

He had been thinking long and hard, but Rupert had messed all that up by going for his choice, so he'd thoughtlessly chosen Florence instead. NUMBER FIVE—FLORENCE.

Dave's destination was the one people were most worried about. He said his tactic for choosing destinations was to look at the Ryanair web-site and then go for the one that he'd never heard of. His case was strengthened by me looking at this destination at Stansted and saying, "Where on Earth is that?" Hence, he was going for Alghero, in Sardinia. NUMBER SIX—ALGHERO.

Steve went last. It seemed that he'd struck a deal with David that they'd rotate this destination until it came up, since it was against the rules to go for the same place twice. With that in mind, he was going for Copenhagen. NUMBER SEVEN—COPENHAGEN.

The seven destinations had been revealed and it was decided that a rehearsal draw would take place whilst the real draw cards were being drawn up, so that everyone knew what was happening. By some miracle, Florence swept home in the rehearsal draw, much to Amal's delight. He punched the air by way of celebration.

Irish coffees were ordered all round, and when they arrived, we began the main draw. It was decided that elimination would be done in the reverse order of revealing. Thus Steve stepped up first. He selected a piece of paper, and revealed Copenhagen. It seemed he'd taken the set up too literally, and he did a Barthez recreation to show his disappointment. Next was Dave. He eliminated Florence and there was an audible sigh of relief. Amal eliminated Brussels and it seemed that the draw was going well for the disgruntled boys. Rupert then eliminated Geneva and I was unhappy. With three destinations left, the glass was passed to David. He selected a piece of paper and revealed Munich. He sighed with relief as his horse was still in the game. It passed to me. I shook the glass with two destinations left, and picked one. It was Stockholm. Shucks. Chris then accepted the glass and revealed Alghero as the winning destination. Dave celebrated with a Shearer recreation.

As we calmed down from the tense draw, Dave chatted to us about what to expect—including beach football and hiring of mopeds for country treking. It seemed like it might be fun.

We paid up and left the restaurant for a walk by the Liffey. We walked West, and after a while, I looked to my left and spotted the cathedral. We'd not found it for the whole break and I pointed it out to everyone else. Amal piped up with, "Guys, let's worship!" This caused mass hysteria as Amal had done it again!

Thoroughly exhausted after a long day, we walked back to the hotel bar and shortly went up to bed. I told Steve, who was leaving first thing, to knock on our door to say goodbye before he left. I'd regret it the next morning.

Monday, 3rd December

At about 7.00a.m., there was a knock on my door. I staggered over to open it, and there was Steve, wide awake and ready to leave. I said goodbye. David sort of grunted, as he was still half asleep. Can't say I blamed him. Steve departed and I went back to bed. About an hour later, I woke up again. David and I shortly descended to breakfast, which was a very quiet affair, with no Steve present to attempt to chat up the waitress. This time Moules was the first one to join us, shortly followed by Rupert and Dave. Amal and Nick kept up their winning streak of being the last ones down.

We decided that the day would become a "chilling day with coffee" so, having checked out and deposited our bags in reception (except Nick, who was leaving imminently), we walked down to the riverside, crossed over the Liffey (Amal now knew where it was) and made for a nice little coffee place on the other side that became known as pseudo-Starbucks. We sat there quite happily and chatted. For some strange reason, there was an inflatable snowman sat on the floor in the coffee shop, which we could only attribute to the fact that it was a month before Christmas. There was also some sort of snowflake affair scrawled on the window. A policeman was sat on the table next to us, so we all had to mind our manners.

After a good while talking about the break and the prospects for Alghero, it was time for Nick to leave. He was departing on the bus from O'Connell street, which was just around the corner. We duly deposited him on the bus (making sure he had a plastic bag, just in case), and then ran along side it doing Shearer impressions for at least the next 400 yards. Once Nick had departed, it was time for lunch. The day was dragging somewhat, and we all walked slowly towards a shopping mall food court, grabbing a filthy table next to the wall. Moules sized up the options, finally selecting the biggest portion of fish and chips available. Most of the rest of us were sensible and bought sandwiches, but we'd come to expect such behaviour from Chris by now, so we could cope.

Tragically, when lunch was over, so was Moules' contribution to Dublin. We therefore nipped back to the hotel. On route, Amal noticed two women sat on a bench and stopped for a chat. I pointed out that they were statues, and he was somewhat embarrassed. Back at the hotel, we grabbed Moules' bag (also taking the time to book ourselves a taxi for later on) and walked to the bus stop. Whilst we were there, Chris spotted a sign in a cafe window that said "Eat". He looked at it curiously, because he couldn't understand why that needed to be pointed out to people. We finally ushered him onto the bus and got him on his way.

At this point, Dave decided he wanted to leave the rest of us and go and enjoy some dicking around for a bit, so he did. We promised to meet him an hour later at the hotel, and we walked back to the Temple bar area (Rupert spotted the cobbles, which was how we knew where we were). Just around the corner from our hotel, we found a quiet little coffee joint (opposite Luigi Malones) and we went in to chill for our second coffee stop of the day. Half an hour later, we met Dave and went to Phoenix Perx (lovely sense of humour) for our third coffee stop of the day. It nicely filled in the time before we needed to get the taxi.

Half an hour after returning to the hotel, we were getting a little frantic, because our taxi had still not showed up. Clearly the taxi firm were dicking around. We were just at the stage at which we were thinking about catching the bus when it did arrive. Not happy, we all got in and went to the airport. Our taxi driver this time around was almost polite. He had hardly a swear word to say for himself. We were almost disappointed.

As the plane prepared to take off, David and I were saying, "It's still Dublin. For the next few minutes it's Dublin. But it's Alghero next time!" Once the plane had taken off, we said, "that's it, Dublin's over, but the Dublin experience goes on. For five of the Colonel's men it goes on". Everyone else was getting a little tired of this. Fortunately, the flight home seemed to pass very quickly and we soon found ourselves back at Stansted airport. We all grabbed the same train for one stop—the Cambridge trains were messed up again, so Dave, David and I had to change at Bishop's Storford. We said goodbye to Amal and Rupert and made our way North to Cambridge. The walk back to Argyle Street was filled with sadness—David and I said goodbye to Dave and went home. The Dublin experience was finally over.

But it's Alghero next time... or is it??