Journeys

Way back in the day before I was the man (though in the process of becoming 'An Fear'), every so often we would all be packed in to my father's beige Ford Cortina and set off on the epic, 6-feckin-hours-across-bogger-country trip to our grandparents house in north Kerry. This journey through the rolling badlands of Laois and Offaly was only made made tolerable by lunch. We'd stop at the Tower restaurant at the Esso station on the outskirts of Roscrea and there eat our body weight in chips and chicken. Then we'd force feed ourselves jelly and ice cream. Stunned in to silence by all the carbohydrates, we'd spend the remainder of the journey slack-jawed and stupified in the back seat. Though beyond Limerick as the roads deteriorated, we'd come close to reintroducing some of that chicken back into the world as the Cortina bucked and bounced its way towards Foynes. I was put in mind of this on my recent trip back to Ireland with Cian. For him potholes have given way to air turbulence, Laois and Offaly have become Russia (though I'd swear you'd be hard pressed to tell them apart), and the longed for stopover is at the Starbucks in Amsterdam airport; or rather, the Starbucks at Amsterdam airport overlooking the main runway!!!!! No chicken and chips though. All muffins and chapatis and other foreign shite.