I could almost imagine that the Bonfire Night fireworks going off outside are in celebration of this historic event. Better days are ahead for us all now.

Commiserations to Dr Monkey, alas the world is not ready for you yet.

Artwork by Shepard Fairey
Video via SwissMiss

Yesterday I went to visit my friend in Middlesex, about 2 hours away from where I live. She has two young children and is primarily a housewife, while her hubby works as a computing engineer. I haven’t been seen them for about a year, and though I am always very welcome there, I also feel quite awkward.

When I met my friend, Katsu* at music college, we were both single girls without many responsibilities. Now I’m still single and irresponsible, while she is a married mother of two. She met her husband at church, and they are both committed to their faith.

Near the end of my visit, Katsu asked me about my love life and I said that I wasn’t involved with anyone; she said that I’d meet a “nice, sincere man” in church. Not wishing to be impolite, I simply said, “No, thanks.” And I think that surprised her, as she repeated my words back to me in a quizzical way.

We also had an interesting conversation about the housing market. When Katsu married her husband in 2001 he had a small 1 bedroom flat already. Four years ago, when they decided to start a family they sold the flat and rented a small 2 bedroom house, in the hopes that house prices would fall eventually. I don’t know how much their rent is, but it must be at least £1000/month. She asked me if I was planning to move out of my parent’s house soon, and I explained that I wasn’t able to at the moment due to: a) high house prices, b) the current difficulties in getting a mortgage, c) not being accepted onto the council housing register, and d) my low income. She asked me why I didn’t rent a flat and I basically said that I couldn’t afford to. Then she said that I should have a lot of savings from living at home, so I should be able to live off my savings… I didn’t want to get into an argument, so I just said that I pay rent to my mother and have bills to pay so I’ve haven’t got loads of cash. Then later she said that her husband was in charge of all of their finances, so I guess that she’s doesn’t have to worry about that side of things.

Another reason that I always feel awkward when I visit Katsu is that she always makes a big deal out of my fussy eating habits. I feel like such a complete weirdo when she brings up that subject.

It wasn’t a horrible visit at all though, it just showed me the differences in our lifestyles and perspectives.

I was so embarrassed when Katsu’s 3 year old boy suddenly poked me in the chest and shouted, “Big!” He kept on trying to grope my breasts, and I had to hold him off and tell him not to several times. I guess he’s not used to busty women…

The party was okay, slightly better than I expected. I didn’t get any of those comments, though I did receive a few appraising looks from some of the older ladies there. I was on edge all day though, expecting someone to say something. When my godmother spotted me and called me over I was worried, but she only chastised me about not visiting her, then gave me £50 as she used to do when I was younger. I had to accept the money to be polite.

With my brother’s girlfriend and one of my cousins around, I wasn’t the only young woman of ample proportions, which probably stopped me from being a target.

Every so often I would retreat to my bedroom, though I wasn’t always alone in there as my brother and uncle would come up and ask me to burn a dvd or discuss some TV show. My brother’s friend’s wife said that I should have spent more time downstairs, as she’d barely seen me. I felt a bit guilty when she said that, but I honestly felt really uncomfortable trying to socialise with all the people who were around, and had to fight the urge to escape. Also if I hung around downstairs for too long, I ended up becoming a waitress, taking food orders between the domino table and the kitchen.

Talking about the domino game, it was quite amusing when the men moved the table nearer to the house after a while because they were getting bitten by mosquitos!

My dad ruled the turntable with his old school reggae, until my brother slipped in some modern tunes as a respite from the “dead music”.

Although mum was exhausted by the end of the day, she seemed happy with the outcome, which was the most important thing. However, I did cringe a little bit when she mentioned repeating the exercise next year.

I really enjoyed my recent minibreak to Dublin; although it only lasted a couple of days I found it a nice diversion from my quotidian concerns.

Not long after my 6am posting, I picked up my heavy backpack and made my way over to Liverpool Street, where I met up with my friend Etsu. From there we took the Stansted Express train to the airport. I was really disappointed with the Stansted Express actually; I’ve used the Gatwick Express once, which uses these slinky red cone-nosed trains, and expected a similar quality of transport from the Stansted version, especially as it cost up to £17 each way. Instead we had to travel on a crappy train with broken seats and litter everywhere. The worst thing about the Stansted Express is that it’s the only way to get to the airport in a decent amount of time; the other trains going there take hours and don’t run during the early hours. I was glad to get a £5 discount on my return ticket through the airline.

The flight to Dublin was free of charge without taxes, and the return flight cost 2 pence, incurring about £10 of taxes. Unfortunately because my friend doesn’t have an EU passport we had to pay £8 each for airport check-in. Though the flights themselves are so cheap, Ryanair makes its money from the optional extras (airport check-in, priority boarding, credit card payment). Never having been on a proper budget airline, I was worried about having to find our own seats on the plane, envisioning mayhem and fisticuffs onboard, but it was fine. I would say that there’s no need to pay the extra £4 per flight per person to be first onboard, unless you’re in a big group who wants to sit together. In total we paid £20 each, the same amount as the train to Stansted Airport…

I’ve become quite nervous on planes in recent years, for which I blame Lost and Final Destination. I hate the take-off and landing, though I’m fine during the cruising period. The plane was quite small – only six seats in each row – so it was easier to feel when the plane was changing direction, and I was quite glad that the flight to Dublin only took an hour. Etsu slept for most of the flight, while I read a novel inspired by Errol Flynn’s time in Jamaica.

After we’d landed and I was waiting for Etsu to come through passport control, this big African guy in his late 40s who’d been on our flight approached me and asked me for my phone number. He was quite persistant, and in the end I told him that I had a boyfriend. (I hate doing that, as the fact that I’m not interested should be enough – I shouldn’t have to evoke the idea of some non-existent alpha-male to reject someone’s advances. And besides sometimes that line doesn’t work – he might try to convince you that he’d treat you better or be a better lover than you’re current guy, or that what your bf doesn’t know won’t hurt him, etc. etc.)

So after that we took the AirLink bus (€10 for a family ticket) to O’Connell Street, which is one of the main thoroughfares of central Dublin. Our hotel, the 3-star Ripley Court Hotel, was a short walk away. I’d chosen the hotel based on its budget cost (€65 per room per night) and its reviews on TripAdvisor, but I was still rather worried about how nice it would be. I needn’t have worried. Although from the outside the hotel looked quite unwelcoming, the interior was lovely. The hotel room was really nice too, plenty of space and a lovely ensuite bathroom. We enjoyed a massive Irish/continental breakfast each morning, featuring bacon, eggs, toast, cereals, hash browns, sausage, fruit, etc., which provided us with plenty of energy for the day ahead.

After we’d unpacked and had a brief rest, we decided to explore the area, aiming for the river. Walking back to O’Connell Street, we traversed shopping centres and main streets, and somehow ended up on a street which contained several sex shops (of course). We walked around some more then eventually ended up at a generic cafe where I had a thai curry and Etsu had some pasta. I was shocked when I went back to the counter for another orange juice and was asked for €3.25; though I’d been warned that Dublin was expensive, it was dearer than I’d expected.

Wednesday was our only full day in Dublin, so we both wanted to make the best of it. Etsu really wanted to see the Book of Kells, so we visited Trinity College and the Book of Kells exhibition that morning. The best option was to have a guided tour of the college (€10), which included the cost of visiting the Book of Kells. Our guide was a cute, geeky PhD student, who gave us some background on the college buildings (including several which were designed by architects who’d never visited the site), plus information on which of the halls of residence had housed famous former students such as Oscar Wilde. He also told us about the professor who was killed in a gunfight with students on campus. After the tour we went on to see the Book of Kells, for which we had to queue for a while despite already having paid for our admission. It was interesting to find out about that impressive work, and the mystery of its origins.

I ended up having to buy some trainers as the leisure shoes I’d brought with me were hurting my feet. We stopped off in a branch of Footlocker, and I picked up a pair of Nike Air Maxes. I didn’t actually mind buying them as I’d wanted some new trainers for a while anyway.

After lunch at an Irish pub we went on to my choice, the Irish Writers’ Museum. I enjoyed finding out more about writers like George Bernard Shaw, Samuel Beckett and Oscar Wilde, and to view artefacts like their typewriters and correspondence. I also learned about the Irish writers’ tradition of subverting authority, and challenging the status quo.

We returned to our hotel for a brief rest then ventured out to the lively Temple Bar area. We walked around, and enjoyed the live music from street performers and shopped in some of the souvenir shops. After a while we ended up in the Bad Ass Cafe…

We wanted to sample the famous Irish Guinness before we left Dublin, so after we’d checked out of our hotel room on Thursday we went to a nearby pub and ordered two half-pints. Though it was much more pleasant that the Guinness I’ve tasted previously, I couldn’t finish my half-pint, but luckily Etsu was happy to finish it off for me.

Our flight home was delayed for about an hour, due to technical issues, but 50 minutes after take-off we arrived safely in London.

Overall I really liked Dublin. Ideally I would have loved to have had a week to really explore the city, and perhaps to take a day trip out to the Wicklow Mountains, but two days was a nice taster. Though there were a few similarities with London, I felt like I was in an European city like Paris or Brussells rather than a British city like Birmingham or even Edinburgh. They use the Euro, their road signs use kilometres instead of miles per hour, and even their pedestrian crossings reminded me of those I’ve seen in mainland Europe.

When I visit foreign countries I can’t help noticing other black people (I saw a handful each day, and was surprised to see an afro hair shop near my hotel), and I think that Etsu was also looking out for other Far Eastern people, as she mentioned that she hadn’t seen as many Japanese people as she’d expected. I also noticed a lot of Eastern-European people living and working in the city. There was a moment when we were walking through a park when every group of people who walked past us spoke a different language, which reinforced how cosmopolitan this international city of culture had become.

By the way, did I find the inspiration for a certain blogger’s name?

Ten minutes to six. I haven’t been up this early since the last time I had to catch a flight at an insane hour.

I’m going to Dublin, Ireland for three days/two nights with my Japanese friend Etsu, who has come to Britain for about a week. We’re going on the budget airline Ryanair from Stansted Airport, and we’ve booked a room at a cheap B&B.

Neither of us have been to Ireland before, and it should be a mini adventure. I haven’t seen Etsu since her last trip to the UK a couple of years ago, so it’ll be nice to catch up with her.

No doubt I’ll come back with a few funny stories for your amusement. I’ll catch up with you later in the week.