Serendipity?

For over two months, something has been nagging at the back of my mind, and with the new year fast approaching I need to put it behind me once and for all...or at least until one of my wise-acre relatives decides to bring it up again.

In twenty-three years of travel to Ireland I had never made a mistake in my choices for lodging. Well, there was a sketchy Sligo hostel in in 1995, but since then I have found great accommodations for my traveling companions and myself.

But I blew it this time.

I should have known better - there were few photographs of the house in its online listing, and very little description of the actual accommodations. But I (uncharacteristically) looked past these deficiencies and chose to buy into the extensive narrative of Aghaboe House which was included in the listing.

The owner is an American who fell in love with the property, purchased it in the 1980s, and raised his daughter there. Now that she is in medical school in the States, he rents out the home - his "labor of love" as a self-catering property. Eighteenth century Georgian manor house complete with AGA cooker, concierge, wine cellar and a library containing rare volumes by one of the home's first owners. Well, you can read the story for yourself right here.

I will not go into what a filthy, disgusting dump it was, but I will say that the AGA cooker had probably not been in working condition for over twenty years. But, according to the concierge (I'll call him Rob), who greeted us upon our arrival, he had been at it all day to get it working. Rob was a friendly enough man wearing in a greasy fraying sweater and possessing an odd manner and an even odder Cockney accent (this was County Laois in Ireland, after all.) Rob assured us that the owner would be back any minute, and in the meantime he would show us around.

I wondered if the wine cellar was part of the "kitchenette" Rob pointed out? I may have spied a bottle of the owner's beloved Rioja Crianzas somewhere amidst the rusty hot plate, the stack of plates with dust a centimeter thick, peppered with fly carcasses, and the sink full of crusty, smelly dishes. The library was in the owner's private quarters - set apart from the rest of the house by an attractive vintage bed sheet strung across a doorway.

Didn't I say I wouldn't go into it?

If you don't mind, just Indulge me...we waited more than thirty minutes and there was no sign of the owner. I honestly had no intention of staying at this place from the moment we drove up the overgrown lane and saw the broken down cars and doorless minibus in the drive. I left my phone number with Rob, but the owner never called. However, I did receive a defensive email from him a day or two later telling me that the fact that we didn't wait for him to return "spoke volumes" and if we were expecting a "hermetically sealed hotel" why did we book a historic country house? He went on to tell me he was prepared to defend himself from any action I might take. OK...you do that, you creep.

We found a clean, comfortable hotel (don't think it was hermitically sealed), ate dinner, and got a good night's sleep. By the next morning Helen's (our cousin's wife) brother had found us a castle.

We spent the next two weeks here.

Special thanks to Jim O'Grady for negotiating the deal and to Zane Everard of Lisheen Castle for taking us in.

But most of all, I want to thank to Mike Fitzpatrick and his colossal pit, Aghaboe House for making my best trip to Ireland so far possible.

Training

As I get older (and wiser?) I don't drink as much as I used to. When I was in my twenties I spent a fair amount of time hanging out in bars with my friends. Today, as my fortieth birthday looms on the not-so-distant horizon, drinking a lot and often just isn't as much fun as it was in my younger years.

A few weeks ago, my sister Regan and I were discussing our upcoming trip to Ireland. We talked about our previous trip two years ago and how much fun we had with our McCormack relatives. When we told our cousin Helen where we were staying during our visit, she remarked that it would be a long walk home from Tuohy's. Remembering our evening at Tuohy's from last time, Regan and I agreed that it might be a good idea to dust off our drinking caps and brush up.

We were officially in training. Our first few sessions seemed to be going well - we had some laughs and gradually increased our consumption. Yesterday I asked Regan if she wanted to grab a beer, reminding her of our training status.

Regan sighed, "You know, I don't think this training thing is working for me. What made having drinks fun when we were young is that we just did it. There's no spontaneity here. This feels like work, there's too much pressure. It's kind of like when a fertility-challenged couple is trying to get pregnant..."

I get it. I officially call the training off. I suppose that I will just need to show a little restraint, but at soon as a big pint of Guinness is set down before me, all bets are off. We will let the chips fall where they may...hopefully keeping the hangovers to a minimum.

Spam? Naw...it's entertainment!

The comments that make their way to the spam folders on my Wordpress blogs really crack me up. For example:

• Wow. Kamren thinks I am the Shaq of blogs..."Slam dunkin like Shaquille O’Neal, if he wrote infromtaive articles!"
• I am so glad I could help Chelsi..."I thought finding this would be so aruduos but it’s a breeze!" and Tessa..."Finally! This is just what I was looinkg for."
• Hotshot Bald Cop is an agreeable type..."Right on!"
• Wise words from Vina..."A rolling stone is worth two in the bush, thknas to this article."

Funny stuff.

Long time, no blog...

Sometimes Regan says the funniest things. I am not sure they are all that funny to other people, but they really crack me up. I will get to her latest comment in a moment.

First I wanted to say that we are planning another trip to Ireland this Autumn. I am very excited. Regan and I decided awhile ago that we wanted to go for a couple of weeks, and when my mom caught wind of the plan she asked, "Well, what about us?" So Mom and Dad are coming along. This evening we had a trip planning meeting to discuss car rental and everything about traveling with them came rushing back! It will be a good time, I just need to remember to let things go, or it will be a long two weeks!

Regan bought a new camera. The Sony that I purchased six years ago that she had been using was no longer doing the trick. Dropped a few too many times, grubby niece fingers all over it, out-dated...it was time for an upgrade. The new NIkon made its debut yesterday at Ainsley's third birthday party. Regan was disappointed in her shots and said the camera might have to go back.

Now, here's the funny thing she said. She called me last night after she had time to reflect on the new camera's performance at the party, and with a huge sigh of relief tells me, "Don't worry, Aine. I don't need to bring back the camera."

I hadn't been worrying. She went on. "I just took a sweet close-up of a binder clip."

That's funny because she was completely serious. So, at the very least we will come back from Ireland with tons of great shots of office supplies.