Cork 2012

UP FOR THE CRAIC IN CORK 2012 28th September– 1st October 2012

Roseville’s finest arrived at junction 17 at 6:15 to collect the Keiths and carry the Squarrite 6 northwards to Manchester Airport. Luckily the traffic lights were not in use on this occasion. The driver seemed in a hurry and appeared to be prepared to drop the Squarrites on the approach ramp at the airport and rush off. However the stop was needed only to lower the aerial to allow passage under the barrier to the well arranged drop off zone by the departure door. The Aer Lingus check in desk was opposite the entrance. Ali and Huge were some time away but had a copy of the booking confirmation so the 6 checked in and headed for the bar where Bill was allegedly seen with a pint of Fosters. Yup finished his sausage and egg bap and took out his spread sheet for the settlement of accounts and the issue of shirts. There were the usual shirts in black or grey but the shamrock green ones were favourite for the trip to the Emerald Isle. So much money changed hands that security thought a drug deal was taking place. Dasher announced that he was glad to be on holiday and away from work. His gravestone would have a double yellow line surround and be engraved with the words “An accident waiting to happen” as a reference to the daily round of telephone complaints. “What will be engraved on your headstone?” he asked Joe. Keithee offered “He’s not here; he lost himself on the way”. Boarding was more civilised than with the Easy jet free for all and the Squarrites were together on the propeller driven ATR 42/72 for the short hop to Cork. The view from the window was a brief geography lesson of the Dee estuary and North Wales and Anglesey coastline. Landing was a little different and our lady pilot appeared to make a one wheeled landing so bumpy that the cabin door flew open with a bang. The Squarrites scanned the arrival hall for a familiar signboard but without luck. A brief wait in the sunshine and a few telephone calls resulted in the arrival of a Volkswagen mini bus driven by Cornelius O’Donovan. (Not to be confused with a Donner Kebab van)
Within a mile Huge felt back at work among resurfacing works. “I love the smell of hot blacktop in the morning” he said. The Squarrites arrived in Kinsale in bright sunshine but the rooms at Tierney’s Guest House on Main Street were not yet ready. A friendly local offered to take a group photo on Joe’s camera but, despite several attempts, was beaten by the technology and Dasher had to deputise a lady dressed in a leopard print dress from Maurice Murphy’s hardware shop.
			The time was 11:30 and the Lord Kinsale pub was open and offered burgers and fresh fish dishes in various forms. Pints of Guinness and Beamish were ordered. Joe babbled on about a lady who had undergone a double vasectomy. “You’d do well to have two of those” said Ali.
A Spirit of Kinsale lay in the harbour offering trips round the Bandon River estuary leaving in 40 minutes. There was just time for a quick pint at the Wharf Tavern in the Trident Hotel before negotiating a group discount for the cruise. The discounted price of 10.5 Euros was usually only available for parties of ten or more but, as Yup pointed out, Bill counted for two.
	The boat set off to the tune of Ravel’s Bolero as the Admiral pointed out places of interest. The sound was so poor that several travellers rested their eyes for a camera opportunity for Ali G. Complimentary coffee was served by the Rear Admiral. Her front was pretty good too.

			Dasher took to the top deck in order to take the cold air but had to wrap himself up in a woolly blanket to recline like a giant blue tampon.

Joe led the way back up Stoney Steps and through the streets above the harbour with brief stops at the park and St. Multose Church to take the rooms at Tierney’s. 2 Ali G 4 Joe & Yup 5 Keithee & Dasher 7 Huge 8 Bill & Jacko

The Squarrites gathered at 5:30 to be sure of getting a meal. The pubs stay open till very late, said Joe, but the locals eat early. Kinsale was famous as a culinary centre and all ethnic cuisine would be available. “Russian?” asked Yup. I don’t think we’re in that much of a hurry said Keithee.
		A reservation was made for 7:00 at The White House before a Guinness aperitif at the Armada alongside some apparent 14 year olds attempting to play pool. The White House was a proper pub with a separate dining room where the Squarrites were served by a waitress from Eastern Europe. Three went for Irish stew, three for lasagne with others settling for fish or burger. The cost was 14Euros each including the wine and tip.
The group was sworn to secrecy from Dasher as Yup passed round some dubious photos of himself somewhere he should not have been. Benidorm had been visited, perhaps to explore for a future Squarrite trip?
		Jacko gave a quick rendition of the trumpet solo prompting Keithee to remark that if he had known he’d have brought his kite. The Seanachai was empty and soulless but the Folk House was jumping to the sound of a group named Indigo. They were good with a wide range of musical styles for Huge and Joe to dance a few do-see-dos. Yup finished the night with a drink of soda water and blackcurrant. He couldn’t face another Guinness but thought that it would look similar from a distance. The pub was filling up as the Squarrites left at 12:45.


Saturday 29th September The day began with full “Irish” breakfasts that included white and black pudding to prepare for a day out on the Scilly Walk. The group gathered for a photo by a plaque in memory of “Timothy O’Keefee distinguished literary figure”. Keithee was unaware of his Irish connection. A jovial resident offered to take a group photo but soon regretted his gesture when handed a further 5 cameras for similar use. The Scilly Walk gave views of Kinsale and the estuary and the Squarrites stopped in a shelter to take in the vista and to take photos. “Last of the summer wine?” said Joe. “More like the last of the summer winos” replied Keithee.



Joe reported that he had woken Yup during a frantic 20 minutes search for his notes on Kinsale only to find that he had been sitting on them. “I hope he was wearing his trousers” said Ali. “That can leave a chocolate star” said Huge.



	The Bulman at Summercove was closed but proved a pleasant spot to pause and watch the world go by. A group discount from 4 to 3 Euros was negotiated for entrance to Charles Fort, a 26 acre star shaped complex commanding the entrance to the harbour.
	Charles Fort proved full of interest with Yup discovering lots of ovens that he believed were for pizzas. Gun emplacements guarded all approaches from the sea but the fort failed at its first assault made from the higher landward side.
	All except Bill and Dasher gathered by the exit and Ali sat down on a wall with a bump. “The wall was lower than I thought” he said. “Either that or you overestimated the size of your arse” said Jacko.
	Yup tried to contact Bill but there was no signal. “He must be somewhere having a pint otherwise you’d see his head over the battlements” said Yup. Steve eventually appeared with enthusiastic reports of his discoveries regarding the design and complexity of the fort.

The Bulman was now open and some sat inside while the remainder enjoyed the Guinness outside in the sunshine to watch the local entertainment of a dog chasing car wheels. Keithee reviewed his latest text messages and asked “Did you know that KATE MIDDLETON is an anagram of NAKED TIT MODEL?” A hardy swimmer waded from the water and went inside. The sun went in and the temperature dropped to force a gathering indoors. The hardy swimmer chatted to Ali G about working at Stoke Civic from his desk in Jacko’s former corner.
The Squarrites resisted the temptation to stay for lunch and instead headed for The Spaniard where 3 sat outside with a plate of communal chips while the rest gathered in a small corner indoors. Huge appeared to relate a story of a man who danced to The Birdie Song as he went down on his wife. “No. No.” said Huge “This man was a ventriloquist but was able to continue the conversation with the help of the dummy. His lips did not move but his wife’s certainly did.” Joe reported that he could not get his tongue around such language. Dasher ordered a pint of Smithwick’s Pale Ale but was disappointed and had to try a second pint to confirm his dislike. A review of the potential venues for the evening took place before retiring for a quick power nap before regrouping in official Squarry uniform at 7:00 for Guinness aperitifs at the Lord Kinsale.
The Cobra Tandoori was handily placed next door to Tierney’s and offered the usual menu with starters and wine. Three went for the traditional poppadoms while five chose onion bhajis followed by curries of various potencies. Joe recalled his youth and his regular dancing lessons to learn Latin American. His rumba was good but the cha-cha had won him a 1st gold bar. Huge had also won gold for his Latin American and jive. The Squarrites left without sweets or coffees with a total cost of 30Euros each. A Squarry visiting card was prepared by Huge with an over enthusiastic scoring but was presented by Yup on leaving.
Ned Kelly’s proved larger and more unwelcoming than it appeared from outside. The act was setting up their equipment and backing tapes. Two girls wore 5 inch heels and peroxide hair while the third was heavily pregnant. They began with “Rule the World” and progressed to “Summer of 69” with hand jive with lots of ventriloquist’s finger action. The group moved to Seanachai where one girl behind the bar tried to keep the regulars supplied with beverage. One regular snarled and the order was gone, quickly followed by Jacko, who threw a paddy. Joe caught it and drank it !!

The Folk House featured a group with a girl singer with sparkling eyes that appeared to speak to every male in the audience. One young lady gave Huge a chance to show off the jive talents that had once won him a gold medal. He was good but failed to throw any of his best shapes including his signature “naked glove puppet” move. She was so impressed she returned for a second routine and an exchange of facebook addresses. The noise proved too much for Yup and the group returned to Seanachai where a quieter act that reminded Yup of Christie Moore was playing. A large group of girls who had travelled for an hour from villages 20 miles away entered and joined the background singing and danced in any available space before leading a conga round the pub. One girl sat on a high stool and appeared to do a quick Sharon Stone impersonation. “Were those knickers pink?” asked Yup. “No definitely black” said Joe.

Sunday 30th September The rain was falling and Cornelius was delayed by 20 minutes to take the group to the Jameson’s distillery at Midleton. Jameson’s clearly respected the older client with a reduced entrance fee of 9.60Euros rather than 13Euros for others.
	Entrance and exits to the displays were made through the gift shop where many bargains were available. Standard bottles cost 24.5Euro rising through 500Euro for Dungourney to 5000Euro for the 20th Anniversary special. Worth every penny no doubt with its 2 “Free” glasses and a scroll. The display began with a short film to describe the history of the company and the essential difference of their product from Scotch.

The guide managed to keep a straight face as she described how the barley was malted using burning peat rather than anthracite. The delicate smoky flavour thus induced survived the triple distillation to give Jameson’s its distinct taste. Maturing the distillate in old sherry and port barrels from Spain and Portugal and American Bourbon barrels for 8 years also contributed. The illusion was spoilt at the conclusion of the tour by a glimpse of the new gas fired plant where all production took place. The old copper distillation vessel attracted great interest from a photographer who took many detail snaps. “Is that what they call Still Photography?” asked Yup. Free plastic hooded coats were provided to keep visitors dry during the trip through the open yard. “Whiskey macs?” suggested Yup.

	Joe and Bill were the fastest to volunteer for the whiskey tasting and were taken aside for the test. Both passed all their exams to emerge as “Qualified Irish Whiskey Tasters.” Meanwhile Dasher took samples under Keithees guidance and lost his whiskey virginity.

Wallis’ Bar, Monumental Sculptors & Undertakers was a short walk away but did not sell food. The barman was quite happy for the Squarrites to buy food elsewhere and eat with a pint at the bar while watching a game of Hurling on the big telly. O’Brien’s Sandwich Bar was just another short walk away but possessed only one bread roll despite a fine onion-less display of fillings. There was plenty of sliced bread white or brown, toasted or untoasted at a cost of 4.95Euros

Another short walk brought the group to the Express Cabs office with a mini bus transfer to Cobh. The Queenstown display was set in the restored Victorian Railway Station to celebrate the mass emigration from Ireland to America.

The display was extensive and decorated by ladies in Edwardian dresses but proved insufficient to keep Ali G from the bar where he was found tonsils deep in a double chocolate gateau.



	The trip to Spike Island seemed inappropriate and the Titanic experience had relocated with an entrance fee so the group headed for the Cathedral.
St. Colman’s (the patron saint of mustard) was designed by Pugin and built between 1868 and 1919. The carillon, consisting of 49 bells with a total weight of 17.7 tons, played a succession of tunes including the death March as the Squarrites arrived breathless from the steep climb. “Someone’s dropped a clanger” said Yup.

			The Quarry Cock pub was found and Guinness and Beamish ordered. “There’s a singer on tonight” said Yup nodding to a sewing machine on the shelf. “Sew it seems. You’ll have us in stitches” replied Joe.
Cornelius was contacted and a rendezvous arranged with just enough time to wander around the beautiful town with houses painted in a multitude of colours.
The journey back to Kinsale was shortened by a well organised ferry but avoiding the turn to Ringaskiddy which could have made an interesting change from chocolate stars. Yup suggested a drop off at The Spaniard to sample their famous cuisine. A girl at the bar helped to negotiate the menu. “The lamb shank is best but the fish pie is the largest meal for hungry men” she said. The food lived up to its reputation and the Squarrites left full and windy for the short walk back to town. The familiar aroma of well digested Guinness wafted through the still night air.
The group gathered in the Folk House and Keithee texted Yup with a message “Where are you”. 10 minutes later and side by side he received the reply “I’m here” The Jazz Emporium started with Pink Floyd before descending through Beatles, ELO and Cliff Richard. Yup received a major dose of Jacko’s treatment at the bar. “You English were the ones that tried to crush and belittle us”. “Sorry, I don’t understand” replied Yup but the tirade continued in less comprehensible tones. Huge went to the bar and had an instant rapport with the drunken man. He called Huge a Celt- at least that’s what he thought he said. The Craic in action. The group left for an early night at 11:45.
Monday 1st October The day began with another fine breakfast. “Full English” said Huge “I mean Full Irish” he corrected. “Nah, go on wi’ you” said the waiter. “That’s only for the tourists. May the door remain behind you when you leave?” There was a final opportunity to buy a memento or something for the wife. “Somehow an ironing board cover just doesn’t say it” remarked Joe. There was time to settle accounts at a cost of 111Euros each for shared rooms and 207Euros for single rooms. It had been worth suffering all those snores.
Cornelius arrived to take the Squarrites to Cork bus station. His all inclusive bill of 45Euros each was settled and goodbyes given.
	The left luggage room was no longer in use but a computer shop just down the road offered the service. The group crossed the road to Oliver Plunkett Street into the main pedestrian area of the City to admire all the paving generously funded by Europe. “Hickeys jeweller’s looks like a fine spot” commented Yup.
A mass was being celebrated at St. FinBarre’s Cathedral so the group retraced their steps back through the City to visit the Beamish Brewery. “They don’t do visits and, in any case, it’s all made by Heineken in a new place outside the city” said the man at the gate. Another illusion shattered. Ali and Joe drooled at the display of Gibson guitars at the music shop but the Marshall amplifiers only went up to 10. Joe navigated his way to pay homage at the Rory Gallagher monument in Rory Gallagher Place but was disappointed to find only an arty wing sculpture. “Any figure not mounted on a horse is always a let down.” he said.
The Oliver Plunkett pub was Wetherspoons in style but offered a wide variety of meals and the group decided to take perhaps the last meal of the day.
There was just time for a final Irish Guinness in the Welcome Inn. The name proved contradictory as the drinkers were all deep in thought considering the odds on the horse racing shown on the big telly. The pub was very Irish and the Guinness was definitely the best ever.
Dasher went walkabout and was accosted by a local. “You’re the most obvious undercover Guardia I’ve ever seen” he sneered. The bus to the airport left from bay 10 every 10 minutes for the 15 minute trip and tickets were bought from a machine for 4.75Euro.
The flight was on time and the journey back managed to be 35 minutes quicker than schedule. The taxi was alleged to be already waiting though not visible through the pouring rain at Manchester. The mini bus arrived and with a little persuasion the driver dropped Keithee and Jacko off at junction 17 to wave goodbye to another great adventure.