Long We Tossed On The Rolling Main

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

I'm back in Glasgow! We left Stornoway by ferry at the ungodly hour of 6am this morning and drove and drove and drove through the centre of Scotland to return here, to home, and the chance to repack before I board a plane tomorrow morning for the Emerald Isle.

A few things I'll miss from my time in Stornoway:

1. The sheep!

They're everywhere! Mincing across the road as if they have no idea you're bearing down on them at 50 an hour. Better yet, not even bothering to get up from their afternoon siesta across the double yellow line. Lewis sheep look different from the normal countryside variety. They've got character. And My day will be that much greyer without them.

2. Sailing.

Stornoway is an ocean town. The island has so many seafaring connections it's unbelieveable. There are some seriously beautiful tall ships who come and set anchor here for a few months every year, the fishermen come home each day with the sea lions in their wake and the birds diving overhead, and the locals make amazing yard decor from old buoys and fishing net. A few days ago I had the pleasure of getting to temporarily play skipper aboard a 26' sailboat in the Minch. Several hours of pure bliss skimming before a stiff breeze up the craggy coast towards Harris.

3. The Sunsets.

That's all that needs to be said about them.

So I leave Lewis behind for my next stop, Dublin! Now, at last, after the madness of the Fringe Festival, I can settle down to being a budget traveler and spending as little as possible. But just when I thought it was safe to not go broke, I discover that the city of my destination has decided to host its own Fringe Festival in September.

Bastards!

I'm going to have a hell of a time restraining myself from seeing every show I can lay my grubby little mits on. Luckily I'm not staying long becaue of Laignee!

For Laignee's sake (You'd better still be keeping up with the blog, young lady. It was your idea in the first place.) I am roughing it by bus to the Southern countryside in search of a small bakery bearing her last name. Of course the national bus route to the place has just been cancelled, so I am on a quest to avoid walking the 50kn from Waterford on my own little tootsies by any means necessary. We'll see how that goes.

And then there's the matter of my European Union passport. I haven't been boring you all with the details of my family's trials and tribulations vis a vis the labyrinthine beurocracy inherent in any governmental department responsible for citizenship, because I wouldn't want to inflict that sort of torture on anyone voluntarily. However, the fight has been going on for about three years on and off, and now, when it matters most of all, we're at an impasse.

So some drastic steps have been taken, and some exciting plans have been laid. Like any surprise tactical maneuver, this one has daring advances to places nobody expects, long-lost reuinons with souls given up for lost, secretive documents which must be delivered safely to certain parties, and plenty of time doing battle with the Forces of Nature.

You are all in the dark for now for the sake of your own safety. Information will be dispensed on a need to know basis.

Remember: The codeword is "Badgers." We meet tonight at the sign of the Flummoxed Haggis!