Ah yesterday

The last couple of days have been grand. Yesterday my (leisurely) breakfast was interrupted by a phone call from Joy, a friend of my mother's, who asked if I wanted to come dog-walking up a mountain. Of course I did. Brilliant. So she picked me up outside The Tuning Fork (a pub, natch), and we drove off to Kilmashogue which is about 15 minutes of dog-on-Mariella, dog-on-Joy and dog-on-windscreen-wipers outside Rathfarnham.

The dog is some type of terrier thing named Har. He has quite an interesting history; to start with he doesn't actually belong to Joy, or even to the neighbours "across the way". The neighbours found him on the side of the rode after a hit and run (hence his name); they took him to the vet, got him patched up and kept him when no-one came to claim him. A while later the son left home, and Har wandered over to Joy's place; she kept him for about a week, then as she was putting up a notice a small boy said "That's our dog", so she gave him back. Except that he didn't stay with them, and has pretty much adopted her as his new owner. She periodically returns him when she needs to leave the country, but he's always at home waiting for her.

We decided to take the trail less travelled on the mountain - it looked more exciting. As it turned out: we felt like explorers, cutting our way through gorse, leaping over branches in our path, and fording rivers. Actually this is where I turned all girly and said that I was supposed to be meeting my cousin in town for lunch, and that I had a hole in my shoes (it's true - I was going to get it mended in Welly before I left, but the weather was so appalling I was wearing them up to my last day); so we retraced our steps, and took the high road instead. At this stage Har was looking more brindle than grey and white.

When we came back down Joy suggested lunch at Glencree, where they don't mind Har sitting quietly(!) under the table. For this trip Joy attached Har to the back seat of the car, much to my relief, and his audible disgust. We had very good mushroom soup with fresh brown bread, and navigated home via the Dublin "Mountain" (which has been measured at 910ft).

Joy dropped me off at Fay's, and I ran in to clean up my breakfast dishes: I had left toast in the machine and half a banana floating somewhere round the kitchen. It probably looked like I was abducted for scientific testing. Unfortunately Fay was home in between, and not only did she clean everything up, she also put the alarm on. Due to my inability to deal with anything electronic that's not a phone I managed to set this off (I was pushing the wrong buttons). It's very loud. However, she was joking with me about this yesterday, so I remembered her password when the eircom man rang to check that I wasn't breaking as well as entering.

I spent the afternoon having a guided tour round The Clarion and drinking very good coffee there with Em. I followed this up by attempting to buy a ticket from Bus Éireann for Monday from Dublin to Belfast. Having spent at least twenty futile minutes on their site yesterday I decided that in person was the best method. When I asked the woman at the counter I discovered that the price was different from that advertised on their timetable (lower, so that was a good surprise), and that she couldn't sell me a ticket so far in advance (five days). No wonder I couldn't get one on line... So I went to a pub instead.

I had dinner at Brasserie Sixty6 with my friend Blaire. It took me about 10 minutes more than I had anticipated to find it, because I'd forgotten that you can have odd and even numbers on the same side of the road in Ireland (pics coming, I promise!), and that roads change their names capriciously here, so you can have number 68 followed by number 1 (just for example (who me? bitter?)), in the same block (who me? lost?). Happily, Blaire called as I was dithering half a mile up the correct but now differently named street, outside a different restaurant which could have been number 69 (the address she texted me), wondering if I should go in, and I walked down to the right one. I had planned to go out drinking afterwards, but we both ate so much steak (and chocolate fondue) that it was all we could do to waddle, slowly.

Fortunately I went out last night, with Leta, her bloke and his mate. Leta and I went to a Hare Krishna place for dinner; when I got there I was so hungry I ordered the super massive plate. Eyes bigger than stomach, there was no way I could finish it, but fortunately they did takeaways. We went to the Palace Bar, where they had both Guinness and live music. We were sitting right next to the musicians, and I wanted to take a recording to put on the blog, but I was far too embarrassed. I'll sort out how to manage it and take the next opportunity. Leta and her bloke left after a couple, but Tom, who is German and plans towns, and I stayed for a couple more, which was grand, until I looked at my watch and panicked about last buses. What time do they go in Ireland?? Apparently the ones to Rathfarnham go at 11:40pm. Good to know.

I'm meeting Em at a pub somewhere on the way to Busáras (where I failed to buy a ticket) shortly, so I think it's time to send out a scout party.