I may have told you that OH is a Dub – that is, Dublin born & bred. When we lived in Dublin I travelled all over the country with various friends but he rarely ventured further than County Wicklow. In his mind, the furthest anywhere is in Ireland is about 3 hours away. He lived in Canada for a while and didn’t seem to think anything of travelling 7 hours straight, but apparently not in Ireland.
Now we live in County Kerry which is at the very bottom of the country, you would think that getting to County Wexford, also at the bottom of the country, would be relatively straight forward. Wrong! It’s a 5 hour journey without any stops – and sticking to the speed limit…officer.
We had arranged for a friend to come and stay with the ginger prince. She arrived armed with salmon and various goodies to forge a friendship with the prince. Obviously this was more than acceptable to said prince and he was happy for us to leave without a backward glance.
You know how the ‘are we there yet?’ chant from the back seat? Well our journeys mainly consist of ‘when can we turn your crappy playlist off?’ and ‘when did Ireland get so big?’. OH is not a great traveller by any form of transport. When Harry Potter’s Floo Powder is out on the market, OH will be it’s biggest fan.
So off we set on our journey to Wexford. The Mekinist has to stay cool (diva meds) so a friend had loaned us a cool bag and I had called ahead to arrange a fridge in the room. It doesn’t escape me that I would previously have been carrying prosecco and nibbles in my cool bag and the fridge would only have been required for those necessities.
My leg started to swell before we even reached Cork with quite a few hours to go. We finally stopped in Dungarvan, County Waterford where we found a quiet corner in a tea room that I could elevate my leg without drawing too much attention. Having consumed a load of tea and cake we intended to hit the road again.
Before I tell you the next bit, I need to explain there is not one single decent chip shop (chipper to Dubs) near us. There are takeaways, but you need to have consumed vast amounts of alcohol to think the chips are anything more than edible. This has been the cause of great consternation to us and we have both agreed that the next house move we make will be within driving distance of a good chipper. What do people even eat on a Friday without a decent chipper?? Anyway, I needed to explain that so you don’t think I have become some kind of savage. But, as we left the tea room we spotted a proper chipper. It called to us and we were drawn in even though we were full of tea & cake. Yes, dear readers, we did indeed have huge portions of chips, wrapped in paper and snaffled the lot walking back to the car. I’d like to tell you I was ashamed, but that would be a total lie.
By the time we reached the hotel in Wexford, it was dark and pouring with rain. There was a yellow weather warning for an incoming storm. Nothing else to do but get comfortable in the bar.
Another revelation – I found that I wasn’t enjoying the red wine. I am no connoisseur and whilst I know what I like, I am normally happy to drink even the crappiest red wine. I had noticed that a few things hadn’t been tasting quite right, but surely not my favourite red wine? Like the professional I like to think I am, I persevered. But after two glasses, I knew all was not well. I put it down to tiredness from the journey and decided to call it a night.
As I am now certain that OH is not reading my blogs, I can tell you that I left him in the bar. Not with a group of guys, but with the BRIDESMAIDS. Yep, he was playing with fire, trying to keep up with a group of ladies. I finally woke to a sorry little knocking on the bedroom door at 7am the next morning after he had woken up in the bar where the ladies had left him! A lesson to all men out there – never mess with ladies on a mission!
The wedding was upon us, surely my taste buds hadn’t been ruined too much by all this medication?