Homeward bound once more

 A bit groggy and somewhat worse for wear after 12 days of Pub abuse, I was glad to have requested the extra hour for late check out.  One more hot b’fast at the Morrison Hilton and got packed up with all the paraphernalia gathered between London and Dublin, we ordered a cab to take us away for a night in the Grand Hotel located on the shores of the Malahide Estuary of the Broadmeadow River.  A lovely hotel in the quaint historical fishing village was just the ticket to try and return some blood to the alcohol stream, possibly make an attempt to get a bit better hydrated in advance of the long trip home next day.  We didn’t have any luck getting a reservation for dinner as it turned out to be Mother’s Day in Ireland, and the restaurants were apparently booked solid.  We decided to try and walk up an convince the Maître D at That’s Amore on Townyard Lane that we deserved a break.  Luckily he was obliging and we were able to message Bex that we had secured a spot an hour later.  With time to kill, nothing short of a pint at the Gibney’s Pub would suffice.  There we found multi generational families out for a glass of bubbly for the cherished Irish Mam.  

Brother Matt showed his fortitude by choking back yet another pint of Guinness.  Off to our reservation, Bex joined us for what turned out to be an exceptional Italian pasta dinner and we enjoyed getting more information about our niece’s adventurous studies and her plans for a career in the dark arts.  We checked the next bus arrival time for Bex to return to her hostel, seemed a long time on a dark rainy night, but wait, isn’t Duffy’s Pub nearby? Surely it would be better to wait there?  Indeed.  One very last cleansing Ale in Malahide was taken, Rebecca dispatched home by bus, and an ETB for the entirely played out tourists.

Next morning saw and early start with a much shorter cab ride to the airport.  Got there in plenty of time to check in our oversized golf bags (glad to have them off our hands) and get through a once again mystifying labyrinth of security rules, this time discombobulating the usually serene Miss Karen.  No harm, no foul, we were through with no souvenirs confiscated this time (bit of a close call on the Guinness  Mustard).  Flight to Frankfurt was on time and smooth, sadly a fairly long ways in the wrong direction.  Last leg home was also on time and very comfortable, we arrived in Calgary mostly intact (no thanks to Cam2 who infected Matt who then passed on the favour to me).  Speaking of Cam2, he may not ever recover his FTLOTG Shacket, sucks being him. All baggage arrived undamaged and we were glad to see Denise with her North American Sized vehicle so we could get all the gear and ourselves in comfortably.  In closing out this trip blog, I was once more struck by the closeness of everything in the UK (and Europe), streets, flats, storefronts, WC’s (in particular).  And as I always say (h/t to Dad), great trip, glad to be home.