Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Full (Irish) Monty

I was watchin Monty Hall in Connemara the other night and thought, this lad’s havin a laugh with the turquoise water and the blue skies of Roundstone. Monty man, you stole the summer from us. How come him and his dog got all that weather? Nathin left for the rest of us. It’s one of two things, I pondered; either there’s some serious CGI going on or Roundstone and surrounds were stuck in some 80’s time warp when summers were much better.  I want his job. He gets to arse around in a boat scouting for dolphins and whales with his trusty dog Rubes by his side. Catch the odd fish here, swim with the odd dolphin there, go for a few pints with the locals, come home cook your catch outside in the sunshine, blah blah blah to the camera...ya I could do that. And let’s face it ladies, he’s easy on the eye.

We, on the other hand, didn’t arse around in a boat or catch our supper on our family escapade to Roundstone. Recently off the cuff we headed off on a Sunday morning to stay the night there before heading to Aran for a day trip the following morning. Mainly, to satisfy the Youngest’s fascination with a B&B, the concept of which she cannot get her head around. ‘Will we have to use their family bathroom...where does the family eat?’ she wonders. The bean an tí was most welcoming, serving us freshly made scones and tea. Himself reckons they were even better than my own. TMI, should have kept that one to himself. Deployed methods to tire out the three included a trip to Dogs Bay and the playground. Suitably shattered that evening I looked forward to a steaming bowl of mussels and a glass of quelque chose.  We didn’t make reservations. So around 7ish we wandered downtown Roundstone to check out the local hostelries. Two of them of them finished serving food at 7, although the signs outside said they were serving until 8. The other was fully booked and we were told to try the cafe next door. No mussels and I’m like a weasel. ‘Won’t the lady in the B&B be able to cook for us?’, the Youngest suggests. Well if her dinners were anything like her scones we might have been best served bribing her to throw an extra spud in the pot for us.

The following morning we were treated to the full Irish. No complaints there. We headed off to Aran and I hoped to see the dolphins I’d seen before on my last trip to Aran some years ago. Alas, they must have been otherwise engaged with the dolphin equivalent of Irelands Next Top Model hosted by Monty Hall. Bikes hired and away off to see the Dun Aengus. On route we stopped for a swim and I couldn’t feel my limbs afterwards, freezin. I’m nursing a cold ever since (such a wuss). So, we returned from Aran with achy legs, three singing Leprechauns, two colds and memories of a fantastic trip. And no one up-chucked in the car.