Once the driving crash course (yes, I know) had ended, we spent a few days in Donegal with most of my family.
Why "most"? For the previous month, Gerard had been talking up a gap-year style trip he was planning to take around the coastline of Ireland during the summer - seeing all the places, meeting all the girls, busking to stay alive and cutting up the roads on a 125cc motorbike with no GPS. He did a lot of talking and planning, delaying his departure more than he wanted to - eventually even making sure the bike was MOTed, taxed and insured with a week or two left of July.
And then finally left for his trip two days before we were due to fly over, with the assurance that he'd be back in time for Mammy's birthday, i.e. the day before we were due to leave.
The time spent in Donegal was as quiet and easygoing as you'd expect. We found a place early on where we could have a traditional Irish breakfast:
We also spent a lot of time trying to keep the dog under control while watching my dad fly a paramotor, his newest hobby.
An older hobby, the boat, also got its time in the sun - unfortunately this time included large waves, which, for those who don't know, results in the boat cresting the wave, dropping through the air for the (significant) distance between the high crest and ensuing deep trough, and finally hitting the water with a serious smack.
Any people sitting inside consequently are pulled upwards off the seat during the fall, and then drop like a sack of bricks at water level. The boat once had cushions, but they were removed, so we passengers were sitting on top of the wooden storage benches without padding.
When we hit a particularly big wave, my crash landing cracked apart the lid of the storage bench.
Yes. Really.
I broke wood just with the power of my arse.
Eventually, however, the boat had to bow out for the rest of the holiday, as the outboard motor was being attacked by salt precipitates and required specialist work to clean it out.
On the last day, we made an extended family dinner for Mammy's birthday (not without her doing everything possible to obstruct us, as she was convinced that she was cooking dinner for them), including fantastic gravy and an extremely boozy tiramisu. I think the tiramisu is best summarised by the following quote from its maker:
"Sarah? Your gran's hitting on me..."
Oh, and we don't know what Gerard thought of the tiramisu (or if he would also have tried to kidnap my fiancé) as HE DIDN'T MAKE IT HOME UNTIL WE'D FLOWN BACK.
Dammit Gerard, learn some time management! :P
No comments:
Post a Comment