Lunatics

Simone and I have just returned from a wonderful break in Dublin, courtesy of Ryanair and their 2p return flights - worth every penny, despite the fact that their pilots always land so badly. The last time I went there, I heard the man in the row behind me say to the person next to him "That was a computerised landing, you know". When the person questioned him as to how he could tell, he replied "Well, you'd have to be a complete fecking eejit to deliberately land it like that, wouldn't you now?". Quite.

What we didn't do in Dublin:

• Visit Trinity College
• See the Book of Kells
• A whole host of other things one probably "Should" do in Dublin

What we did do in Dublin:

• Buy terrible gold/silver leggings in Penny's (their equivalent of Primark) "just in case" we ever needed them for an 80s/bad taste party in the future. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I shall have to host aforementioned theme party in order to get my money's worth (7 Euros, kids)
  
• Ate the best Chinese food I've ever tasted outside of China.
• Did karaoke in a private booth where no-one could hear our screams.
  
• Busked for 2 hours outside Temple Bar.

Now, about the busking. I still can't quite figure out how it happened. I think our spirits were at a temporary low, having been asked to leave the karaoke just as we were starting to sing "Sweet Child O' Mine". Then we walked past a busker, offered him some encouragement, and asked him what he was going to play next. "Hallelujah", he replied. "Oooh!", I said, "Are you going to do the Leonard Cohen version or the Dead Jeff one?". He did the Dead Jeff one. It was wonderful. We joined in. Then we stayed and sang a variety of other songs with him. People walking past stopped for a while and joined in too. Julie, in an attempt to gather more money for Gavin the Busker, started shouting at passers-by: "One Euro for an erotic dance!!!". Many, many men stopped. They paid their one Euro as instructed. Then they asked when they would get the erotic dance. "Get??", replied Julie, "You're the one who has to do it! Now, you've paid your Euro - off you go!". And some of them did. One young man did a particularly good pole dance with an imaginary pole. A crowd gathered. There was rapturous applause. Tourists asked to have their photos taken with us. Later, Simone was given a tambourine to play. We sang, we swayed in time to the music, we laughed and sang some more.

At one point, I asked Gavin if he got many nutters joining him. He said every second person that walks by is generally a bit mad. I was encouraged by this. Not so mad after all, it appears.

However, as Gavin's busking stint came to an end, as he packed up his guitar and tambourine in the early dawn light and prepared to leave, I called out in an anguished cry: "Gavin! Don't leave us! Gavin! I've never had a busker run away from ME before!". We turned to go, slightly downhearted. Gavin said, in a tone of slight amazement, "You's are all a bunch of fecking lunatics!"

A Wednesday night in Dublin. It's a city full of lunatics. And I like that about a place!