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Preface and mental note:
NO big nights out with a 6am flight the following morning and definitely NO eating the "evil sausages" sold from small carts in the streets of London!
You might think that London sausages have no relevance in this Irish tale but unfortunately for me they have all the relevance to my weekend trip to Dublin with Dave, Belinda and their friend Kate. Good news was I managed to make the flight Saturday morning after a crazy Friday bender - no sleep of course. Seriously I have no idea how I got there on time but I can tell you that on arrival at the airport my body secretly wished I'd decided to bail. Words can't accurately describe how poor I was feeling and without disgusting readers too much I'll just comment that the people sitting next to me on the plane were so concerned after looking at my pale face that they also immediately requested sick bags!
Saturday was a complete waste. I spent the entire day in our Hostel room fearful of throwing up every time I moved... I couldn't even keep a glass of water down! My friends on the other hand spent a wonderful day wandering the streets of Dublin followed by a tour of the Guinness Brewery and ending with a night out at Temple Bar. Of course I slept through most of this and was only later informed when they came home greeting me with a packet of dry biscuits they'd picked up god knows where! However come morning I was still weak but ready to take on a big breakfast - good signs! By 11am I was full of beans and persuading my hung over companions to head out for a morning of sight seeing.
The afternoon was game time, our primary agenda. Off to Croke Park to watch the first International Rules match between Australia and Ireland. That's right, the hybrid Gaelic and Australian Rules creation. About 45,000 people turned up for the match. A bunch of yellow wigged Aussies in the centre surrounded by Irish fans everywhere.
Pre-match entertainment was the Hurling (a cross between hockey and lacrosse) final between Ireland and Britain. Seeing as Hurling is Ireland's national game it wasn't surprising to see the poms get belted. The skill and courage of the players was impressive and the pace of the game never ceased. They should have an exhibition of the game in Australia... you'd love it!
The International Rules match was a shamozal! Other than a few exceptions, the Aussies looked terrible with the round ball and Ireland kicked our arse over the full four quarters. Being surrounded by Irish fans and no alcohol to quench our sorrows made this even harder to swallow. Nah, to be honest, I didn't really mind losing all that much. The Irish fans had a wonderful sense of humour and berating one another made for an entertaining day. I've concluded that everything in an Irish accent is funny. I had the funniest conversation with a man on the street about the match, the classic line spoken in a thick Irish accent, "All tat money tose professional Australian players get and tay still can't win" - I couldn't help but laugh and agree. You see, you need to realise that none of the Irish payers are paid, instead excelling at their chosen sport for the honour and glory, which when you think about it, merely rubs salt in to that losing wound.
Overall this was a short weekend made even shorter by my own drunken stupidity. We live and we learn (or do we?). Still it was a small taster and now that Lew is seeing an Irish bird I'm sure I'll be back there again some time soon.
Cheers!
Zane
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