The wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old

Well, well, what have we here?

Currently occupying a laundromat in some wayward street of Dublin waiting a) for machine to finish, and b) for another machine to open up to do another load. Wasted morning, hello. But I can't complain, I didnt even go down to breakfast this morning, I yelled at my parents for their incessant goddamn talking and then they left me alone while they went off by themselves. I stayed in bed half awake watching Magnum PI before having a shower and such, 8.30! Latest start yet. Touring is not kind to the late sleepers, and this Ireland tour was tame. Apparantly on the next one there are 6.30am starts. Joy.

Anyway, the tour itself was great. Yesterday was the last day and we came in from Galway to Dublin, coast to coast as it were. I love Ireland. It's gorgeous and freezing. I have too many photos of grass and clouds though. It was just really relaxerd and the majority of the group were a lot of fun, only thirty people on the tour so there was lots of room on the bus, and the hotels were really nice. I think it was probably a great way to start the touring experience, and we saw a lot. I'd love to come back one day though, probably to Dublin. It strikes me as a writer's city.

I've been in various states of intoxication during the tour though. Or at least it feels that way. Two years of sobriety washed away in a pint of cider first night out. And Guinnes. And Jameson. And wine. And Irish Coffee. And more Irish Coffee. And yet more Irish Coffee. The Irish, not surprisingly, really know their Irish Coffee. It is, in short, fucking brilliant. It just tastes better here. As does cream actually, and I don't even like cream. Bloody Irish, trust them to get me drinking again. I never had a chance.

So yes, today some shopping (have been good, so far only bought celtic knot earrings at our last hotel and a book of Irish fairytales...mostly because I don't have anywhere to put anything) and then tomorrow off to the airport again. I hope Dublin airport isn't as psycho with their security. Heathrow are nuts, really nuts. Then off obscenely early the next morning to Trafalgar's headquaters and on the way to Amsterdam. No rest for the wicked as they say. But I guess you don't fly 21 hours to sit around playing with your thumbs.OMG speaking of, the epic disaster that was getting here. First Bangkok airport closes down and chaos decends, then we have a three hour technical delay cause of the braking systems [during which time Sydney Aiport shows Aircrash Investigation, amuuuusing] then we have an aborted landing at Singapore and have to circle to finally arrive late at London, all a little worse for wear. At least I got to watch the Doctor Who special Voyage of the Damned a couple of times :D

I will do a more detailed blog at some point, probably when I get back, when I've got my head sorted out.

My parents are so getting on my nerves. And I have another week of room sharing and constant proximity before Abbi saves me. I do not know how I am going to sruvive. Think happy thoughts of impending Doctor Who marathon. It's so hard for me not to stop and flail over absolutely everything cause it relates to one fandom one way or another. Everyone on tour was like *groans* not again! I cant help it, fandom is my anti-drug. Anti-drug!

The barman at this hotel has the most fantastic cheekbones I have ever seen. It's something to behold.

Am I rambling? I am, aren't I? Sigh. Let's summurasise the trip so far - airlines are being less than co-operative; London is like Sydney only with worse weather; Abbi is Awesome (capital A); pubs are your friend; fingersless gloves are not the best thing ever; jeans are constantly wet; roaming charges are sneaky; hotel walls are thin; parents never shut up when you are trying to sleep; Ireland is gorgeous; and our tour director resembled Mr. Bean.

Now, time for a coffee methinks.

Music: The spin cycle of a washing machine
Mood: Amused