Off to Cork we go

An early start saw me eventually sitting around at Gatwick airport waiting for my plane. When I first turned up at the check in desk, a massive queue greeted me and I was thankful I’d arrived earlier than I needed to. As I tried to find the end of this huge queue I realised it wasn’t for Aer Lingus. I then spotted the next queue which was bigger. I don’t mind hanging around but queuing for an hour is not my idea of a good time. I then realised that this second horrendous queue full of babbling people wasn’t Aer Lingus either. At the end, the final desk with two cheerful looking people smiling encouragement at me, was the Aer Lingus check-in.

I walked up to the desk and was checked in in about a minute. I had to put my own bag on the blue trolley because they didn’t have a conveyor belt but it was all super smooth and I gave a wry grin to the hordes waiting to check in at the other airlines.

Security was a breeze as well though there was a slight concern when I had to take my belt off and somehow maintain a bit of dignity while attempting to retain my jeans. It was then into the departure lounge and half an hour waiting for the gate to be announced. Sadly there was no Starbucks so I settled down with my book and a Costa coffee.

The flight left on time, I had three seats to myself and we arrived in Cork five minutes early. And the flight was terrific. If taking an aeroplane anywhere can be seen as a joyful experience, this was it. Of course you don’t get anything (no tea, coffee, water, food, peanuts, etc) unless you pay for it but on a flight lasting an hour and ten minutes, it doesn’t really matter.

I had to wait an age for my bag to arrive on the conveyor belt because I think mine was put on first but it meant it was easy to grab with most of the passengers now on their way out of the airport. But eventually I emerged to be greeted by JJ, Bridget and the rain

JJ had hired a car so we went to find it, arranging to meet Bridget for lunch in Cork at a fast food place called Dino’s, where, amongst the grease and calorific goodness, we chatted and caught up before heading off on our separate ways.

JJ had booked us into a B&B in Galway for a couple of nights so off we went, leaving Bridget to some peace and quiet.

The road to Galway was nice and easy (we avoided the dreaded Limerick) and we eventually found the B&B though not without some help from the guy who runs it. We couldn’t find the place so we rang him and he directed us to him (“You should see me standing outside covered in paint”). After we dumped our stuff we strolled into Galway.

Galway is, strangely, on Galway Bay and it’s all about the water. It almost laps at the end of Quay Street, a wonderfully pedestrianised street full of restaurants and pubs vying for your trade. We were tempted straight into Quays, a massive pub with scores of different floors.

We sat and drank and debated where to go for dinner. We continued debating through a few more pints and dinner. We stayed until the band started and then only left because this guy wanted to take our table and chairs in order to allow more people to crowd into the pub.

What we didn’t know until it was too late was that this week is race week in Galway. Race week in Galway is mad. The population increases by 3 million people and they all descend on Quay Street after 7pm, when the last race finishes. That was why they wanted to get rid of our table and chairs, so they could fill our space with 230 extra drinkers.

We left Quays and, because JJ wanted to use the toilet, went into the Jury Inn and ordered some more drinks. The Jury Inn also had a band though not as loud and amplified. The pub is attached to a hotel so it’s not that atmospheric – who am I kidding, it completely lacks atmosphere – but the beer was very nice and the band was great. It also had the added benefit that the furniture remained where it was.

Eventually we made our way back to the B&B and crashed. A lovely, though long, day.