One long trip to Lahinch

It was with great excitement that I woke up last Friday with a trip to Lahinch for a birthday party ahead of me.  Well, you know I was still a bit bleary eyed for a half hour or so but I got myself psyched up to get out of bed; a momentous feat.

A person who we’ll call Slave Driver A was to accompany me.  Sorry, I mean Mr. A.  He was to be kind of like my personal chaffeur and carer/drinking buddy when I arrive.  I do love people who can multitask.

So we packed our stuff, voted (I’m just so responsible) and off we went.

But sometimes your day can just take on a life of its own.

We were only just outside Mullingar when a car pulled out in front of us.  For a brief second, I thought my driver, who was about to take a direct hit was a goner.  My position more to the rear of the vehicle left me quietly confident I’d be okay (I’m an optimistic type).

This would still have caused me problems though and make me a tad bit sad.  Like who would drive me to Lahinch at such short notice and where would I get another vehicle?

Fortunately, driver A used all his skills to avoid a collision and the nightmare of missing the party was averted.  So, on we went.

But I had forgotten that the more we went West, the more we were leaving civilization.  Mullingar is surrounded by beautiful motorways that mostly go in straighlines over the flat midland topography.

Out West, they have the Corkscrew where you climb a kilometre in a series of tight zig zag bends.  It was far from this sort of thing that I was reared.

The Midlands is full of green and lush with vitality.  In the West they have lots of stones and hills, but most of all bumpy roads that my lovely ass is not accustomed to.  I can see why Cromwell thought it would be a good spot for the natives.

So, on and on we drove before our will to keep going sapped from us and we stopped in Lisdoonvarna.  It’s hard to believe such a small spot has such a grip on the national consciousness but it’s a place full of surprises, especially when you see the armed Garda Response Unit racing about the place and closing roads.  Having had a lovely meal and strangely, still no drink, we continued to our next stop – The Cliffs of Moher.

The gale blowing in detracted nothing from their beauty.  This was the third time to see them and to be honest I think they’re way more impressive than the Giants Causeway in the North.  The scenery is awesome and I do have to admit that, even as a lover of flat terrain.

In true millennial spirit from two old fogeys, we made sure to get our instagrammable photos.  I’ve learned over many years of using social media that it’s very important to make other people jealous.  Otherwise you will have no friends and nobody will like you.

Then it was the last hop to Lahinch to the actual party of Mr G.

The best thing about going to birthdays is it reminds you that your friends are getting older just like you.  A tad disappointingly, he has not been cursed by baldness or grey hair but the day will come.

In truth there were only a few times that I noticed the difference between his eighteenth and his forthieth birthdays.  Well for one, his fairly grown up children but even more so how his judgement on wheelchair accessibility has improved over the years.

This time when I asked about whether the disco was accessible  he gave me kind of a so so response.  Indeed the footpath was a bit difficult to get up on but nothing too bad.

But if his eighteen year old self had given me that same response, it would have mean’t I was fucked;  that the plan was the lift me up a flight of stairs and hopefully there would be a few soberish people at the end of the night to get me down someway alive.

At the disco/nite club I got some Oasis played.  All the young people there must have been rightly befuddled.  It was a bit of a change from the rave that was going on, but surely even they can admit that nineties music was the best.

Then just at the end of the night, a young lad asked if he could ask me a personal question.  As every lad in a wheelchair knows, this is almost always a dick question and to be honest I thought it an unusual time/place to ask but always curious, I told him to fire ahead.

I had my answer all ready when he asked a totally different question.  His heart was in the right place.  I guess after drinking lots and lots of vodka, I shouldn’t be quite so quick to judge walkers.

I had a great night and I do of course, love the West.  As well, happy birthday to Mr. G and a special thanks to my good friend, Mr. A.