Wow, just had a weekend in Dublin, staying at the Clarence. Obviously not something I would have done in my twenties, and only doing in my forties because of a very special deal, I mean do you really want to pay over £200 a night to stay in a place where your toothpaste spit doesn't run down the basin?
Still it was very nice. Didn't meet any Irish people (no, these two sentences are not connected before you complain). All the restaurant staff, shopkeepers even the woman who tells you how to crash in the aeroplane were all from Eastern Europe. Where are all the Irish? The hen parties (which I must admit to being very afraid of, but not half as scared as the husband was) were all from the North of England.
It makes for a very surreal experience. The pubs are all smoke free - which is wonderful, but there are so many people smoking on the street you are in danger of having your eye put out by a stray fag. Still the streets are wonderfully clean because of the mobile ashtrays that clean up.
I've decided two things about travel in my forties. Firstly I like long weekends away Friday to Sunday is just fine. Secondly, I really don't enjoy arriving home (or anywhere) late. I would so much rather arrive fresh in the morning. I find that coming home late really depresses me. So from now on all my weekend breaks will have to finish on Monday (or Tuesday) morning.