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Tuesday 27 November 2001 Dublin Toward the end of last week it seemed that Sam would have to go down to Dublin for the day, probably Monday, to do a little trouble-shooting and training, and as you'd expect I was all pushing to go too (though naturally I would pay for myself, duh). I didn't expect this to pan out, but it did, so Monday morning we arose at the delightful hour of 0630 to make the 0800 Enterprise train. Still; first class. It was fun. I like trains and train travel; so much better than buses, being faster and generally better scenery. Also, being the hick I am, I had never travelled first class (on any form of "public" transport, but trains is the issue here), so it was a new experience. And even though I had to pay for myself I got company spousal rates, which came out as less than half the usual rate. So, yay. Ultimate comfort, not too many people, free OJ, an excellent full breakfast at a pretty good price, yum yum. Plus, travelling with Sam was new; we've only ever travelled to or away from each other; going in the same direction was novel, and although we couldn't snuggle we could hold hands discretely. Awww (gag).
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So while Sam headed off to the Dublin office (or one of them) to do his thing, I had a fun but exhausting time (and still feeling a wee bit wrecked today, too). All that walking on concrete and going through shops, ugh ugh ugh (I hate that kind of street-pounding shopping anyways, as you know; I'm more the search and destroy kind of shopper). Add to that, lack of places to sit down and rest for a while, coffee shops being thin on the ground in Dublin (but not Belfast, oh no) and the art gallery and museum both closed on Mondays (tourists take note) and I've been through them some times before so ... anyway they're a fair way off the main stretch and admittedly I wasn't up to the hike. Also the weather, whilst sunny, was coldcoldcold - 3C anyone?. Surprisingly I seem to have acclimatised a little already - it was a surprise to find it was 3C because I would have bet on 14C. Strange.
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However ... I got shoes. I've spared you the shoe saga thus far, as its been if anything more frustrating than the lingerie issue, and I apologise that all my entries lately have been so atrociously girly and accessories-related, and I promise serious and adult entries soon, honest, but that's what its all been about lately. Accessories. Sheesh. Anyway the shoe thing is mostly my fault, given I have fat flat feet like a hobbit's, except without the hairy toes, I have shocking balance and wobbly ankles and cannot walk in heels, and I demand comfort and quality from my footwear. Keep laughing. So, I got shoes, I GOT SHOES !!!!! (you got shoes, all gods chillun got shoes ... ). This was a main objective/hope of mine vis a vis the trip to Dublin, having exhausted all avenues in Belfast, so yay! Mind you, it was funny because I went through all the posh shoe shops first (see "quality", above); the shoe department at posh Brown Thomas had absolutely nada, though they did have an affiliated conveyer belt sushi place which redeemed it a little; Bally, which usually makes me drool uncontrollably had nothing particularly tempting - though I did sight some gorgeous pumps at one of the expensive shoe stores, Patrick Fitzgerald, or something - but they were only in pewter or black patent, and of course a lot of the usual generic sensational CRAP everywhere else. At this point I was simply longing for Perth's Aherns shoe department which would have had exactly what I wanted, because it always does, and feeling exceedingly disloyal and guilty as a result. So I took a break to wander off Grafton St and through to St Stephens Green Shopping Centre, mainly for a break from shoe shops, and there used to be a health food shop that sold really yummy gluten free bread (this is generally a contradiction in terms; the shop of course, had gone, feh) and in my peregrinations went past a funny wee shoe shop that looked like every single other shoe shop I'd looked into. That is; the usual cruddy weirdo wetsuit bootie-shoes, black biker boots, black everything except for the nauseatingly festive sparkly red strappy sandals with 6" heels ... You know. But but but ... amongst all that I spotted shoes in ivory! flat shoes! pretty shoes that looked like they would fit and be comfy! Too good to be true, perhaps ... So I had a closer look and they were indeed all of the above. AND on sale. AND in my size! I was positive that given my luck they would turn out to be an abject failure so, trembling, I tried them on (nb; after a couple of hours of walking and whilst wearing black opaques, they'd HAVE to be good) ... and .... yes, success. I couldn't believe it. ~Exactly, precisely, the kind of thing I was looking for (and being on sale and in Irish punts not pounds, basically a helluva lot cheaper than Bally...) I'll try for a description. Imagine a very square-cut roomy vaguely slanty toe, high cut up the front of the foot, with the back of the heel being quite high for extra stability, a little bit of a wedge heel but with a lot of contact with the ground, sole-wise. Now, imagine removing the middle, so its kinda like a sandal shoe. Then, take a rounded fine strip of leather & feed it around the contour of the shoe, crisscrossing over the foot at the highest part of instep/arch (?). Prettypretty and incidentally very flattering to my hobbit feet. And I can jump around in them! I put a half-insert at the ball of the foot, to push my foot back that teensiest bit, and may get a bootmaker to put some antislip stuff or rubber gripping on the sole - because they're all leather everything and made in France and oh oh oh did I mention I am all kinds of happy? I'm positive most of my perhaps-nonexistent audience is looking totally bemused at this point, but the rest of you will know exactly how victorious and bouncy I feel. I mean, I have major trouble with shoes as a rule (Docs and Clarks an exception), and the bridal shoe thing was seriously freaking me ... The only other possibility at this point was girls first communion shoes with paper soles. I kid thee not.
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I also bought a lovely BIG fine wool pashmina in ivory (yes pashminas and wraps and poncho thingies are "in" over here, you'd be nuts not to!) for wearing in between ceremony/photos/whatever. So I did damn well! And thank those precious miscellaneous pagan gods; I think that the entire twiddly girly accessory section of this whole wedding thing is accounted for. And really, it wasn't so painful. I mean, some people take eighteen months over this stuff. A few weeks aint so bad.
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Meanwhile, Sam had had an exceedingly successful day in the Dublin office, sorting out the problems of the universe, kickstarting a couple new projects and getting a big "yay" from his boss (well yeah there was more to it than "yay", that's the general gist of it, you know what I mean), so he was very happy. A fair percentage of the Dublin folk are generally pretty troublesome and about as IT literate and thintelligent as those back at The Abattoir (I'm trying for diplomatic here) so this may give you some idea of what he has to deal with. All in all we were both very very happy to grab a drink at the Mercantile (down on Dame Street - good people good food good service) get on the train and get home ... The Jessie-girl gave us one heckuva telling off for leaving her alone all day, and she is an incredibly vocal cat at the best of times (a la Siamese). She goes to the vet on Thursday, poor wee thing, the kindest cut and all that, eep. It has to be done, and I think people who do not spay/neuter their cats are irresponsible trolls who ought to be hung up by their toes and have chilli sauce poured in their ears, but I hate thinking of her feeling even the littlest bit uncomfortable ... I'll report on the patient in a couple of days.
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