Dream Train Travel and a Missed Breakfast

I haven't filled you in about my little jaunt to Ireland have I? Well except for the lost underwear on the way home, and the fact Tara reached 30 while I was there.

First, the dream train travel. I was flying over from Gatwick, so I got the train from Southampton at about 10am on New Year's Day. I had to change at a little place called Fratton, but I had no idea how far that was, or where it is. Turns out from Southampton, I actually travelled backwards, away from London towards Portsmouth, but hay ho, it was the right train.

Why was it dream travel? Both my trains ran perfectly to time, and being a bank holiday, they were both deserted. It was pure bliss. No noise, no hassle, no trouble. The few travellers I came across all seemed hung-over from the previous night's festivities. There were one or two girls who were still dressed up for the night, carrying their high-heeled shoes - obviously didn't make it home the night before :)

Got to Gatwick, took off, landed in Shannon and was met my Tara's husband. While at the airport I used the cash point and realised the credit crunch was finally hitting me. The Euro to Sterling exchange rate had dropped below 1 to 1. Last time I visited Tara it was about 1.5 to 1, a huge difference.

What can I say about the party. It was lovely to meet some of Tara and David's family. They all made me feel so welcome. Far too much alcohol flowed, and some extremely dubious dancing occured, but isn't that what parties are all about? At one point Tara brought her work mates into the lounge where I was sat. I thought I was going to be introduced to them but instead she turned to her friends and said:

"and this is Geoff, you know the one I told you about."

What can I make of that? They looked me up and down, smiled and returned to the kitchen. Don't know whether to feel paranoid or flattered!

Think I left about 3am with two other people because we were all staying in the same hotel and it made sense to share a cab. We could of walked, but it was along a major road, in the dark, with no pavement. Not a good idea in our state.

We got back to the hotel and natuarally, given the time, it was locked. We banged. We rang. We shouted. Nothing. 3 in the morning and there are three drunk men shouting their heads off outside a hotel in the middle of Shannon. Eventually the night porter heard our pleas to be let in and we went to bed.

Now, I'm staying in an expensive hotel, and it includes breakfast, so I vowed to get my money's worth. It was served right up until 11am, so no excuse. Why oh why then did I decide it was ok to nod back off to sleep when I woke up at about 9am? I missed breakfast, and if it wasn't for the cleaner coming in whilst I was spralled across my bed I'd probably still be lying there now.

I had to make do with a MacDonald's meal for elevenses. Big Mac meal for 8 Euros! (which now equates to 8 quid) No wonder people are feeling the pinch in Ireland.

...and that about sums up my trip. Lovely time with Tara, so happy I could make it over. Safe and uneventful travel, you can't ask for more really.