Back in Mallow...

Well, I'm home since Saturday evening, though it was a pure miracle I got here at all. The last few days in brief:

Friday: Go out for a meal, in a vain attempt to be sensible and avoid getting trashed. After meal, break off from group and go meet up with Phil and head for the Star Inn.

Can anyone see in advance how this night will end up? If you said 'ending up at Phil's boozing until the early hours', you'd be right. Talk about sabotaging myself.

The Star Inn was fun, though the owner was a bit stand-offish this time, toward the end. I don't care. I'll get around to him eventually. After that, The Bulldog. The novelty of going to this place still hasn't worn off: There's always someone new to chat up.

So why did I lock mouths with someone I had been with before, who's not really my type? Aaarrrggghhh!

Anyway it was fun, and when I fell into bed at 4am I had no idea of the day that lay ahead of me.

Saturday: Wake up with a horrible hangover (Taste of Phil's gin martinis still at the back of my throat. Never drinking them again!) and in an amazing feat of mind over matter, get my nausea-wracked ass out of bed to pack for the flight home. It is in the back of my head that the flight is at 7:10pm so I aim to be at the airport an hour beforehand.

I make it to the train station at 5:27pm. I see from the TV display that the train to Gatwick airport, which I must catch if I'm to get there in time, is at 5:34. I queue, with mounting hysteria, for my train ticket, and manage to board the train at 5:33 and 30 seconds. I settle and relax, thinking to myself how lucky I am, and that even though I haven't checked my flight details for quite a while, that I was right, that the flight is at 7:10pm.

Isn't it?

I get there at 6pm and lug my bags over to the screens that tell you the flight details. The entry of interest makes my blood run cold:

1810 - Cork - EZY878 - Check-in closed

For reasons that will forever remain unknown, mostly to myself, I had got the departure time wrong by one hour. One hour in the wrong direction. Why do I put myself through these ordeals? Why?

Depressed, and still hungover, I went over to the check-in desk. I mention that it is probably too late to check in, and the girl there confirms this. She mentions that I should go over to their Sales desk, so I do, with leaden heart. I speak to the guy there, he gets on the phone, and manages to get me on the flight list! It turns out that the flight has been delayed by one hour, so boarding is still a possibility. After checking in my bags, I head to the departure gate. Everyone else is seriously disgruntled at the delay, I am thanking the Lord above.

I get home, check my bank balance online, and as a consequence realise that most of time at home will revolve around studying, and nothing else. Oh well, at least I took care of all the essentials first this time, but there'll be no trip to Dublin this Christmas, or anywhere else for that matter. At least New Year's Eve will be in Dingle this year, which should be cool.

Yesterday and today, I vegged.

Other than that, buckets of college coursework await. Onward ho!