Day 88 - St Patricks Day Without Boozy Suzy
Drum roll please………today unbelievably is Day 88 in the Alcohol free realms of Sue’s life.
Eighty fucking eight which is rather
aptly known in Mecca Bingo circles as two fat ladies. Not that I have
ever been to Bingo in my life and two fat ladies is about the epitome of my
Bingo knowledge. I am not a snob I might add, I have simply been raised
by an Irish Catholic Mother who ingrained on my brain from an early age that
gambling was the devils work and that no woman on earth should pay to sit in a
darkened room and watch a man fumble about with his balls for an hour. I
was also misinformed by said mother that everyone in Bingo had yellow, rotting
teeth from consuming too much blue wicked playing ‘house’ and an hour inside
could easily be confused with attending a gingivitis convention. In her
defence she was raised in a small village in Galway that only had a Church, a
Pub, a fish and chip shop and a gift shop selling shamrock shaped paraphernalia run by Gladis Moonshine, who snarled at anyone with leather shoes, so for this demeaner, I will let her off.
Anyway I digress, this week I have been tested to the limit
with our daughters St Patricks day Birthday Celebrations. Now the only
place to celebrate St Paddy’s day after the two year drought courtesy of the
Pandemic, is of course..... Dublin........and as Birthday surprises go for a normal drinker this is the gift that keeps on giving, Amy was ecstatic, so were her siblings
and friends joining us on the birthday celebrations with the promise of copious
amounts of free Guinness courtesy of Mum and Dad, however for me as a rather
novice non-drinker this surprise trip is about as welcome as a speeding ticket.
So here we go again, back on Ryan Air and Robs obsession with seat 1A and 1B. Now Footballers are well known for their quirky little rituals, like certain socks, pre match meals, particular coffee cups, designated car parking spaces etc to bring luck ahead of the game, but fuck me on a plane, it’s tantamount to saying 1A, 1B bitch or its nosediving and smashing into the ground at 600 miles per hour for you!
I secretly think
the seat choice is simply to position him in the key perving position to gawp at the air hostesses as they sit inches away from us, the last
time a stranger got that close to my face fully clothed, they were performing a
root canal for fucks sake. The only real bonus I can get out of priority
boarding is that I get to sit and nurture the pending deep vein thrombosis
ahead of everyone else, whilst sitting front row and making note of any
exceptional plane outfits as if I am Vivienne Westwood at the Paris fashion
show. Oh Sooooo very middle class.
Anyway enough moaning the flight was fab, the coffee pleasantly drinkable, the on board loo had plenty of loo roll, the staff were awesome and we were landing in Dublin in no time.
Dubliners seriously know how to party, they also know how to take the piss out of anyone heading to the bar to order a non-alcoholic drink, something I hadn’t prepared for and hadn't a single witty come back ready to deliver:
'BeJeeeeesus You don’t need to give up booze, you just need
to learn how to drink responsibly and by that, I mean don’t spill any of the
fucking ting' - Not fucking funny
'Alcohol free? I don’t know if Vodka is alcohol free but
surely its worth a shot!' – fuck off
'Christ love, just drink the wine it will stop you keeping
everything bottled up' – fuck the fuck off
'You’re off the alcohol, Jesus, my doctor told me to watch my
drinking so I only drink in bars with mirrors'. – Don’t give up the fucking day
job
Queue raucous laughter followed by a 0% Heineken placed in
front of me and assurances that they were only having a crack with me.
Fantastic I am getting heckled in bars by fancy dress clad bar staff who look like they have run the loo brush through their hair, listening
to B*Witched and watching the world and his deputy dog party like its
1999!
On to the Hotel........
We stayed at the amazing Morgan Hotel, Temple Bar in the even more amazing Aston Suite. I love a good Hotel at the best of times, I love unleashing my inner kleptomaniac as it is completely acceptable to go pilfering in a Hotel Room, so no sooner have I checked in and opened the door to the room, anything that’s not nailed down is promptly emptied into my suitcase starting with the ‘complementary items’. I have to draw a line though and stop Rob in his tracks as he would happily go about calling Pickford’s to remove the plush velvet sofa and book a one way Stenner line ticket to take it back to the UK. But what I really love about Hotels is that they are, in complete contrast to my own house……unbelievably bloody warm…. Rob has taken just recently to padlocking the boiler thermostat at home, keeping the house colder than a Mother in laws kiss. He has made up a story that it’s good to shock your metabolism keeping your body at sub zero temperatures, will push it into overdrive but we all just know it is utter bollocks and he is simply a tight bastard and icicles on your nipples is not a good look for any Middle aged woman, despite the energy saving good intentions.
Well back to the Aston Suite, bloody hell this didn’t disappoint, the room was mega
and our balcony gave front row viewing to the pissed up shinanigans of Temple Bar on Paddy’s day……..the day before and the day after...... Result, Sober Sue can People Watch and snigger at the events
unfolding beneath her. (well not much else going on down there with pissed up Husband
bladdered lol!)
Three days of partying by my fellow pissheads and three early nights for me, I jumped back on the flight to Liverpool, fresh, memory in tact along with my dignity and a phone full of videos and mega memories of the party piss heads and their drunken St Patricks day antics making their way to Moon Pig any day soon. Wouldn't have changed it for the World........Happy Birthday Amy and ‘lá Fhéile Pádraig sona’.
Love
Sue xxxx
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