Brian Thompson
Paul Pearson
Dave Francis
John P. Delaney
It took a good while to get to Galway. Pecker had the map and I was in the back singing along with Dave and JP. Dave brought his dictaphone for entertainment. And it was good. Once in Galway, Supermac's called out to me as I was hungry. We had a little stroll around the smallest city in the world first though. Galway is a village, not a city. Its tiny. After supermacs, and Dave complaining to some refugee that he got the wrong burger, we left for Clifden. And another thing about Galway, it's a bitch of a village to get out of. Signposts are not that expensive so why can't they use them? Finally, we found the road and headed for Refugee town, Clifden.
Colm drove for ages. It was a nightmare of a trip. And the place was deserted. Nothing only rocks, hills, dead grass, twisty roads and sheep. Lots of sheep. Its no wonder Cromwell said "To Hell or to Connaucht". Hell would be a better option me thinks. We touched down in Clifden and realised it was the deadest, hole of a place on the planet. Next stop, America. Thank fuck for that. There wasn't a sinner around. We got lost again, due to lack of signposts. Joe asked some local red-neck and that prick pointed us up a lane. I thought we were gonna get ass-raped, and I guess the other lads thought it aswell. We decided to volunteer Dave to go first while the rest of us made our getaway.
We finally made our way to the beach where we tried finding a stone. No luck at this point but we did manage to get wet feet. the sea kinda snuck up on us. We abandoned the stone idea at this beach and we headed for another one. Once at the other beach, we all picked up a stone. Apart from Dave that is who was too lazy and hence he won't be joining us anymore. I found my stone hard to come by but I did get one. Joe had the car lights shining on the beach so I thought, lets play footy. Off I headed for the car to get the ball. I noticed JP on the beach, so I kicked the ball to him. And off it went. Flying through the air. The curl was perfect, the power was too. It was perfect execution. But the wind caught it and carried the ball over JP's head. It bounced on the beach and into the Atlantic. Not to worry I said, the waves or the current will bring it back. No such luck there. I had to take off the shoes and socks, wade in after the ball and try save my �20 investment. And that I did. However, the ball had gone out further than I thought. By time I reached it, I was up to my hips in the sea. And I was wet. Saturated in fact. But the ball was safe. I spent a while running around the baech in an effort to dry off. I eventually gave up and I sat into the car on my jacket and JP's jacket. Home called to me.
The trip home was spent listening to the recordings made by Dave, me trying not to move in case I wet the car and also the sound of my teeth chattering. I was freezing. Got home around 5 and went straight to bed, cold and tired. And thats Galway's trip. And after it, I hate Galway. I won't go back, but it was funny.