Jan. 10th, 2017


Jan. 10th, 2017 07:53 pm
netgirl_y2k: (gwen beer)
So, I think because we had such a blow out in Galway last Hogmanay, and because 2016 had been largely, well, on fire, I had been putting a lot of pressure on myself to have an awesome time visiting my sister over New Year, and, well, um...

Things didn't get off to the greatest of starts even before I left. The guy who had offered to look after my dog (asked to look after her, really, as he's trying to convince his partner to get a puppy and wanted to show her what it'd be like with two dogs in the house) turned around and said: "By the way, we've got a cat. That won't be a problem, will it?" And, I dunno, man, are you very attached to your cat? My dog charges the telly when there are cats on-screen. So, I had a couple of fretful days looking at ferry charges and trying to work out if my breakdown cover would apply in Ireland (my car is made of rust and runs on happy thoughts) before the dog walker who takes Freya for me when I'm on double shifts said she'd be happy to take her for the week.

I hadn't seen my sister in nearly a year, and when we're getting along there's no-one I like better in the whole wide world, so I was really looking forward to spending a week with her. Unfortunately when we're not getting along the experience is akin to sticking your head in a bucket of wet cement, and I arrived to find her in a wet cement mood. She said she was loaded with the cold, and just off having to work over Christmas, and her plan for the upcoming week involved taking a bunch of sleeping tablets while I watched Netflix very quietly in another room.

So I spent the first night and a bit of my holidays huddled under my coat because it was too cold to sleep, alternating between watching Stranger Things (I liked it fine, but feel like I might have enjoyed it just as much if not more in my own house where there's central heating and a dog) and trying desperately to find an early flight home (for three hundred euros I could have flown from Dublin to Glasgow via Brussels and Heathrow over the course of nine and a bit hours; at one point I had my credit card in hand). The best thing that can be said about the beginning of the holiday is that my sister's flatmates were in Brazil. Because they're Brazilian, not because there's something about my sister that makes you want to flee for Latin America, although. Meaning I could at least sleep on the couch; if we'd had to share her box-room like usual I think there would have been a murder done; that or I would have a lovely souvenir from Brussels airport.

As siblings are wont to, my sister and I made up the next morning, and she confessed that part of her terrible mood upon my arrival had been that she'd taken a fistful of drugs the day before and had still been coming down.

(Sidebar: I don't have a problem with drugs. I don't partake, largely because I like my mood altering substances Scotch flavoured. But if you can keep it recreational and you're staying away from the stuff that will kill you, then you do you. The exceptions to this rule are if you are my baby sister, or if your system of measurement is by the fucking fist.)

So that was another argument; I feel like my pro-sobriety pitch might have carried more weight if I hadn't been holding a pint of Guinness while I was making it.

So I spent the first half of the holiday drinking alone and wandering around Galway. There's something particularly disheartening about going to the Atlantic Aquarium of Ireland by oneself (mostly cod; some eels.)

Eventually my sister and I did properly make up with the aid of a lot of Guinness, me trying to sound less judge-y about the drugs, her letting me turn the space heater on at night, and all the episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Her favourite character is Captain Holt, mine is Jake; this tells you everything you need to know about our relationship.

Speaking of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, the moment of sisterly bonding I'd been looking for came courtesy of the most recent episode with us both going: What? What?? What?!?

I had thought the first thing I'd want to do in Ireland was see Rogue One, but the night before I left Carrie Fisher died, and that kind of took the wind out of my Star Wars sails. We did see it eventually, and I liked it, although spoilers )

What else? Um, Guinness still terribly more-ish and inexplicably nicer in Ireland than it is in Scotland. Beer wise, I also enjoyed Galway Hooker, more for the name than the taste.

OH! The night before I left I got spontaneously chatted up (in a not-gay nightclub, to boot!) by a hot nerd who looked a bit like Jennifer Lawrence who thought I had pretty hair and we got talking about shipping Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. The bad news: fucking Ireland; the good news: when she said I had pretty hair I managed to bite my tongue before I said I just hadn't washed it - my flirting game has improved flibberty-gibbet percent.

So I was just starting to enjoy myself when I had to come home. Like, yeah, two thirds of the holiday were pretty shit, on the other hand, I'm apparently cute in Ireland. I picked my dog up, and she's been staging a sulk that would make a three year old proud. I worried she'd picked up a bit of kennel cough, but no, the little bugger was just growling at me. She's a wee madam.

I downloaded the second season of Humans to start watching on the journey back. I'm really enjoying it so far; lots of Niska, little of Colin Morgan's stupid face.


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