Well bloody hell! I’m only parked like an eedjit in middle of road surveying
Filan palace *thud* dame comes over all funny (and leaps out to rob his
garden*blush* and more of that later….)
DAME HILDA
Er.. I’m scared to begin, am supposed to be doing ‘a dames whistle-stop tour of Sligo’ so you had best all brace yourselves.
Thursday 16th September
Threw sprogs in school at 9 am and tore along the cherished M6/M5 to Dame Bex, that bit was fine as blew ears out on Westlife and mega excitement. T’was some backwoods village she lived in that caused me problems. Drove around a wee village in Worcester 12 times with cell phone to ear screaming out local landmarks till we cracked it (ok – cornered some local yokels and asked directions)
Well after a quick catch up – taxi driver arrived and for ‘an obscene fee’ delivered us to airport (lets say this – cost more in transport TO airport than did to fly to Ireland -) But at least the cabbie was more than entertaining….mind you as both of us dames were ‘cooking with gas’ *cough* ok – running on diesel fumes ….*sigh* running on vodka fumes maybe’ it was a blast!
Fell out of cab and booked in bags to find a delay (and at our age – that’s a good thing) we retired to the bar – well what’s an old dame or two to do? After a few lager shandies…well someone had to drive, and for me (as a taxi driver) it was a busman’s holiday aka- was too mean to pay dual driving fee that I stumped generous dame Bex with the driving job.
Finally after sedating dame Bex ( with a her fear of flying – ok threw some mini drinks down her throat we tumbled out at Knock airport ( avoiding all the pilgrims to Knock’s Marian shrine…) Recalling that on the short notice trip we had overlooked car hire we traipsed over to the booking desk. (All the recognisable car hire firms were chock block booked ….so) the nice men pointed us at a local offering THANKS boys, and what can I say. Dermot, you are a star! Not only is Caseys car hire obscene cheap but very sweet – and (don’t the Irish have a dental service ‘cos he was missing a full set of gnashers…..) we were still on ‘English speak’ so before I knew it – I had consigned soul to devil / signed on dotted line/ passed over credit card details and still couldn’t translate cost or car…
After circumnavigating the car park more times than hot dinners (ok more times than a dames had a man) Dear old Dermot drove past gesturing wildly to a smooth mean tasty machine, a Toyota Yaris, and dame Bex leapt into driving seat salivating (at slinky car NOT Dermott I assure you) Bearing in mind that Bex is a serial stalker, she hit throttle and reversed and tore outa airport car park like she was greased (mind u after the double vodka’s at English airport – she was!)
Before an old dame could ask for a pit stop we were passing the county border (and in my virgin eyes – I mean NEW to Sligo, cos its 20 years too late for that scenario….) Screeching to a halt in the middle of the boonies. Dame Bex smirks whilst I sit daft as basil brush
‘well?’ she says and
‘what ‘says I ..
Well bloody hell! I’m only parked like an eedjit in middle of road surveying
Filan palace *thud* dame comes over all funny (and leaps out to rob his
garden*blush* and more of that later….)
We finally roars off (well dame Bex was having ‘gear issues’) and finds B+B. Sidestep- there was a moment of wild panic as road led us along the creepiest graveyard you ever saw and I was crying in passenger seat praying the abode wasn’t next door,,, I’m a wimp like that (and a lush at normal times) But with relief we finally spotted lovely welcoming classy bed and breakfast. Dame 1 throws car in drive as dame 2 runs up path, and (this story goes downhill now) I hammers on door and a teeny tiny pixie size landlady opens door to greet me, awwww how sweet… Bex follows up rear – then landlady dissolves into horror. We stand there bemused, then concerned and finally worried to death. Till she stares between two of us with dawning horror, by know I’m checking for alien antennas on mates head...
Well, the culmination was – our nice cosy twin room wasn’t available, the dear duck had booked us into a double instead…long pregnant pauses later and a dame side shuftie we decide that as a ‘mature pair’ we can cope with sharing (I apologised to dear dame Bex warning of my snoring/drooling/and the likelihood of me snuggling *blush* ) We are very close friends now – BUT NOT ‘that close!’
Taking everything in our stride ( ok dying of thirst) shoves bags in room glances at mirror – ignoring the obvious ( I looked like a bucket of spanners) tore off to nearest bar. Just for one, or two , or 6 in fact lets be brutally honest, this pair of dames hit every drinking establishment in Sligo ( it isn’t that hard – as it aint a huge town ) How they can call it a city *bless* well its because of the cathedral , so it’s a long tale.
DAMES NIGHT OUT
Having decided, due to our age that if asked
“we are tourists, no no , we aren’t serial Westlife stalkers, no no, here on business”
Dame Bex sells double glazing ( I jest you not) We were doing grand on this till whilst in ladies toilets gabbing ( we do that a lot) Bex gets put on the spot to name the few double glazing firms she has appointments with! Being an evil bitch I slopes off to loo shaking with laughter whilst Bex digs her own hole – or patio…..
Met a lovely ‘wee chappie’ called Enda, small in stature, large of personality, and he hadn’t been beaten with the ugly stick either! Large thanks to him for handy Sligo hints and tips even if he had only recently returned home after 12 years…it was better than this dames clueless stumbles around local haunts. Never did get around to phoning him alas cos I’d written phone number on a tissue…………… and……er……one salubrious establishment was running short on toilet roll ( sorry!)
And YES! I met a Seamus! He was in a dark corner supping Guinness and knocking on a fair bit. He was lovely and friendly and I think – witty, but due to the thickest Irish accent I wasn’t overly sure what he said, but chap was pleasant – That’ll do an old dame ( and he had some teeth….unlike Dermott at the airport) D’ya know what …Sligo bars don’t ever seem to close, when last orders were called suddenly noticed it was 2 am in the morning ( and this was mid week! – can I emigrate?)
Last vague recall was ‘good old dame Bex’ holding traffic up in main street shrieking ‘Abracadabra’ I finally pointed out – either she was hallucinating she’d turned into Harry Potter after 20 vodka shorts or the dear was starving and looking for ‘Abracababra’ – the world renown kebab house in town. Nice donner kebab mate!! Recommend a scoff there ( mind you, after what I’d consumed drink wise I coulda happily chomped through one of Shane’s old mares and still thoroughly enjoyed…)
End of 1st day – Ate drank gawped and shaken of shackles – things can only get better, and they did ( well they got wilder for sure!)