Nightwish - Over the Hills and Far Away

Holiday how are ya?

I'm coughing up sawdust tonight following a marathon session of cabinet building, drilling, jig-sawing and the divil knows what in the name of getting the never-ending kitchen project finally finished.

Tomorrow, I plan on some waste pipe installation to go with our new sink-and-a-half set-up, then demolition of the last hanging on part of the original sink and pipework.

My drill is starting to show signs of wear and tear to match my unhappy lungs.

It is looking promising though.

Trippin' to Malahide

So we ended up in Herself's aul' haunt, Malahide. Every time I go there, the tide is in. But I'm reliably informed there's a beach under the waves not far from the Sea Scout's HQ. Of course, the dunes start further along the coast and eventually become Portmarnock, but that's probably another story and one that would likely go way over the head of this out of towner.

The village is decorated with just-at-end-of-season hanging baskets of flowers which make a pleasant scene. The traffic is bloody well unbelievable, though. I had planned on taking pics of a few shop fronts for posterity but no matter what direction I pointed myself a convertible with build-in blonde or an SUV with God-knows what in it hove into shot.

Malahide Hardware had the fittings for our curtain rails we'd been searching for off and on for the past year. So I bought some to make more work for myself and will probably be found with drill in hand again this weekend straightening the rails out before Herself decides in another day or two that the whole lot need to go in the recycling bin.

Duffy's is the spot for lunch in Malahide. Very friendly staff and boiling hot food make for a perfect combination. I had the Lazagne special -- lazagne with a side order of boiled vegetables that must have been put in the pot so fresh they didn't realise they'd been pulled out of the gound yet. Herself went for roast beef that almost melted off the fork into the mouth. Herself's brother poked his head around the corner just as we were ordering, which was a pleasant surprise. We stuffed ourselves and waddled off down the side streets keeping a wary eye on the traffic warden and the reminder on the parking permit of when we should leave to avoid a ticket.

Drogheda

"Are we there yet?"

"Don't start."

Good journey out to Drogheda on the M50 and then the M1.

"What?"

"Oliver Plunkett's head. Where is it?"

"There's no head here!"

It was in the 25-foot tall reliquary, near where the lady local was lighting a candle for her presumed good intention. One severed head, some rib-bones and a hip later, we found ourselves among the ladies of the town in the Copper Kettle coffee shop, enjoying a cappucino.

Splash!

The waitress, almost dislocating her neck to see what's going on among the passersby on the street below tipped over a milk jug onto the floor.

"It's hot in here," Herself said.

Drogheda is a nice-looking town with several spots of historical interest. It's hilly, so walking shoes are a good idea. I had mine, anyway. There are lots of people bustling about and plenty of shopping. Off Laurence Street is a new mall which is still awaiting tenants, but there are plenty of single shops and boutiques along the streets. One gets the impression that there is a lot going on in the town that our fleeting visit couldn't cover.

Lunch was served in the Westcourt Hotel. Always a good idea to go where the locals are eating, and this was very busy. "Family friendly" is the term I'd use. Ear-plugs an option if you are not too family friendly yourself. Food quite good, but suffered a little from the perennial problem that carvery's have, i.e, the food goes cold quickly.

We took a quick jaunt over to Newgrange, remembering along the way that the only access is through the visitor centre at Bru na Boinne. So we took a few quick snaps over the hedge and headed for home.