Ah, Dublin. Thursday to Monday of pretty solid drinking and smoking, with some fryups mixed in. Thursday, polished off half of a big bottle of Jim Beam Black (absolutely gorgeous stuff, aged for 8 years, may be even smoother than Jack, which is blasphemy to say but there we are), Friday went to a friend's gig (Emmet, who we stayed with), stayed up with more Jim Beam. This is Emmet, with a friend:
Emmet's the one on the left. Isn't he charming? Saturday was a long, crazy wedding - didn't know anyone, ended up pissed and best mates with our entire table. Got back to Emmet's flat at 2.30am, landed in the middle of a fucking great party, which went on till 6am. This is part of the view from the flat at 4.30am:
Sunday we recovered slowly, then had some more drinks that night, and an early night (1am). Monday we staggered home, flights delayed, crazy people everywhere, insane heat. Superb. Oh, and someone seems to have dropped a fucking huge needle into O'Connell Street:
The first pic is looking at it from O'Connell Bridge, the second is at the bottom, looking up. Isn't it bizarre? Very, very cool though. I think it's just called "The Spike", or maybe "The Millennium Spike". The best thing about Dublin (I used to live there) is the friendliness - we didn't know anyone at that wedding, but by the end of the night, it was like we'd gone with 8 of our best friends. Same at the party when we got back, we knew one person, but got on instantly well with all the other mad people. London's really hard to make friends in - I made more in that one day/night than in 7 years of living in London. I miss Dublin a lot. I miss Dublin people.