Ireland 3

Monday: I realise the car needs diesel but decide to wait until I can fill up with cheaper Irish fuel. We set off for Holyhead via Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (which, roughly tanslated, means The church of Mary in the hollow of the white hazel near the fierce whirlpool and the church of Tysilio by the red cave - but you already knew that). Whoever invented the Welsh language was provided with a disproportionate number of Ls and Gs and Ys when given the basic typeset!

The Guiness family commissioned the Brangwyn window in Dublin and they were a remarkably philanthropic and humanitarian lot so we embark on a series of clips indicating their good works - St Stephen's Green, Iveagh Park, Iveagh Trust housing, Iveagh Market and of course St Patrick's Cathedral.

Jinx # 1: Monday afternoon we phone for a taxi and sit on the hotel steps in the sun awaiting same (see Charles with baggage and FBSG clapper board). Meanwhile three Europeans drag their voluminous cases down the steps and wait on the pavement for a taxi to take them to the airport. A taxi arrives, they speedily load up, I descend the steps and ask politely which room number the taxi driver has come to collect - he responds with mine - the other travellers now neatly ensconced in the vehicle claim vociferously that this is their room number! I gve up and we await their taxi - a huge affair more suited to transporting bags to the airport. The driver is none too plased at the prospect of his small fare.

Jinx #2: I ask for Iveagh House on St Stephen's Green but the driver takes us to the opposite side of the park, and, due to the vagaries of the one-way system, it would take another 30 minutes to get where we want so he drops us near the tram stop - fortuitously for Charles who is like a little kid when it comes to trains and similar, and from that point on trams take the place of the horse drawn carriages in Bruges!

After filming the trams from all angles (see above) I drag Charles away to the park itself, thence to the exterior of the large house the family used to occupy facing the Green. Managing to spout my words in between bursts of noisy traffic is not easy (a minor and anticipated jinx until it begins to escalate the following day). Armed with tripod, cameras and bags we trudge along to the Iveagh gardens and are transported by a wonderful waterfall.
Jinx # 3: Happily filming in the Iveagh gardens we are accosted by a uniformed gentleman ringing a bell - time's up apparently. We depart without having completed our work and the gates clang behind us.

Another longish walk (well, believe me it is when armed with heavy camera equipment) interrupted by photo opportunities presented by the elegant Georgian doorways, to David Byrne's pub in Duke's Street where, with my feet on the Ulysees plaque, I manage somehow to maintain a cheerful smile whilst being filmed sipping a Guinness! NOT my favourite tipple.

After returning to the hotel we wander round looking for a bistro (not having eaten since breakfast Libby's stomach is performing its borborygmus act with gusto). We finally loacte something suitable near St Stephen's Green but it proves to be tremendously noisy. When we enquire whether the noise level is usually this high, our waiter responds - 'Well, this is my first evening so I could not comment with any degree of certainty.' Wonderful place Ireland - even the waiters are literary!