We never planned a holiday for this year.
The reason of course was that we didn’t know what the situation was about Sandy. Somehow, when your Best Dog is dying, holidays don’t seem so important.
A couple of days ago I came across mention of a ferry company that sails from Ireland to France. I had never heard of them before and had always assumed that the only route was either by Irish Ferries from Rosslare or Brittany Ferries from Cork. As I never fancied the long trip to Cork just to catch a ferry, Irish Ferries seemed like the only option.
But then I came across Celtic Link.
Out of bored curiosity I did a simulated booking just to see what their prices are like. A sample return trip with the car and dog was around the €214 mark. I banged in the same conditions into Irish Ferries and they quoted me €426. Two yoyos more and they would have been exactly double! That would be one hell of a saving.
I did some research and a few people bitched about Celtic Link. They moaned that there was only one bar, but how many fucking bars can you drink in at a time? Or do people do pub-crawls on ferries? They said the staff weren’t as friendly. Seeing as all the staff [bar the captain?] on Irish Ferries are Eastern European you can’t tell whether they are being friendly or not. They said the food wasn’t that good on Celtic Link, but then they can’t have eaten on Irish Ferries.
The bottom line seemed to be that Celtic Link were the Ryanair equivalent to Irish Ferries’ Aer Lingus. That’s fair enough. When I’m going to France I don’t want a fucking luxury cruise, I just want to get there.
All this has given me the hankering for a trip. The weather here is a fairly typical summer – lukewarm days with black ominous clouds. If it isn’t raining it’s because it’s just about to. The decision each evening is whether to fire up the central heating or not. I have started daydreaming about blue skies and warmth. I dream of sitting outside a cafe, supping mugs of the stuff and puffing on the pipe while trying to work out what everyone around me is saying. I dream of driving through beautiful countryside with the sunroof open.
It’s too late to go to France now, and anyway I’m not abandoning the dog and her only just settling in.
It looks like I may have to make do with a wet few days in the West to escape a wet few days in the East.
Or there again I may not bother my arse.