Dublin.

In Dublin's fair city,
where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussells, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh".

She was a fishmonger,
But sure 'twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before,
And they each wheeled their barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh". 

She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.
Now her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

I said I'd be away for a bit and I wasn't wrong. After finishing my exams (They went terribly. Discussion over.) I got horrifically intoxicated in Manchester, before jumping on a train, another train then a boat and getting horrifically intoxicated in Dublin for the weekend, before taking a few more days off and landing in Shropshire for some much needed rest, relaxation and a severe lack of getting horrificaly intoxicated.

I'd never been to Dublin before, going away for me is a rare occurance; I hate flying, don't have a valid passport, hate the sun as am terrified of aging and don't allow myself the time off anyway. I still sit and complain about the fact I don't go away, but that's not the point.

Nonetheless, going away was probably one of the best decisions I have made for a long while, and I would highly reccommend Dublin to anyone in the UK looking for a weekend away.Whilst the Euro isn't wonderful and so it's not the most economical city in the world; the atmosphere, scenery and feel are just spectacular. I'm not going to go through a step by step analysis of where we visited, as I'm sure you don't really care, but I would say if you every get the chance to visit then do stop off at the Guinness factory (and try to end up in the gravity bar at the very top just as the sun is setting) and also try and see the porter house bar, which is handily located just on the high street, to sample some of their own brews as well as the Fruli strawberry beer, which if you are a wimp like me and can't handle the black stuff is the drink to have.

Now I've been away however, I have come back with the awful ailment of itchy feet; if I had my passport I would probably be sitting in the departure lounge of Manchester airport waiting for to next flight to, well, anywhere, and so seeing as I have a dissertation to write (which is also going terribly. Discussion over.) it's probably a good thing I'm stuck up north for the time being.

So now I'm back, and I have four months left of my degree. A prospect which I'm equally daunted and overjoyed by. I still have no concrete plans of what I shall be doing once I graduate, but the prospect of what may await me afterwards keeps me motivated.

I know I did terribly in these last exams, and I don't imagine the final set will be much more of a success. It's not that I have not enjoyed university, rather the oppposite, but you get to the point where it just doesn't challenge you any more. And as much as I do have itchy feet, I also want to settle and make something of my life*. In the meantime you'll have to put up with my whimsical posts, as you may be able to tell I seem to be taking this blog into much more of a personal direction than it has been before, although fear not, a bit of mascara and other cosmetic chatter is sure to ensue shortly, after all, I am doing a philosophy degree so need something shallow to counteract me turning into much more of a self-absorbed twat.

Cat
xx

*Mother if you are somehow reading this, don't worry, there's no sign of grandkids just yet.