Wednesday 10th May 2023

I am in Ireland, after all, to work. For work.

And Wednesday was a work day.

We had a twenty minute drive to the hub, so we could lay in bed later than usual, have a long shower and be down for breakfast at quarter to eight, and graze the delights on offer.

As well as the usual fried ingredients, there was black and white puddings, neither of which could tempt me.

We checked out, loaded the car and Patrick drove us along winding and lumpy stone wall-lined lanes to the former garage where operations in the area are run from.

Eyes down for the audit, then. I open my notebook and the grilling starts...

.. We, or rather I, am done by two, so we say our goodbyes and get back in the car for the two hour drive to the hotel in Dublin.

Along more lanes, past part-ruined castles onto the motorway, the foot down to head east to the capital.

Ireland is full of petrol stations. That makes you realise that here in Britain, supermarkets undercutting those once plentiful stations have resulted in most of them closing, and needing to go to a supermarket to fill up. Most stations have well stocked shops and snack bars attached. Here were had filled rolls, imagine Subway but we actual bread and proper fillings.

We sat outside in the just-warm sunshine to eat our rolls and Irish crisps.

Traffic was mad as we got nearer, and once off the motorway, it took 40 minutes to drive the last seven km to the hotel, which is beside the former Lansdowne Road ground, now occupied by a space age stadium, home of Irish rugby.

Our way ran beside an old canal, neat terraced houses, and leafy parks. And most of all, there was little litter, a city and population proud of itself: whatever next?

We check in, go to our rooms along never-ending corridors, where my smallish room overlooks the car park, but is quiet enough.

After an hours rest, we walk along the river nearby, to the edge of the Diplomatic quarter, to a nice Thai place Pat knew an he had booked a table.

It filled up, and we ordered starts and a main course. Steaming pans of stir fry and sticky rice was brought to us, so we could tuck in.

We ate well, then retired to the pub three doors along to have a pint of the black stuff and the watch the Milan Derby on the tellybox.

Guinness and whiskey flowed as we watched the footy, and the bright young things around us light up the evening.