A chacun son disco...

I'm back from Cork, and just about to run out of the house and get a head start on the five hour drive to Britanny.  If I can get out of the RP (Région Parisienne) tonight, then it'll save me a lot of grumpiness tomorrow morning on the road, ha ha.

Anyway, I had a great weekend in Cork, with two lovely friends and I got to finally meet up with the beautiful Hangar Queen - although there was so much going on that we didn't really get more than a quick lunchtime drink and a quick hello in the evening.  I had so much to ask her and to catch up about that I'd have loved for us to have sat all night in the bar gossiping.  One day, eh HQ?

As I'm literally running out of the door, I'm just going to give you some of the highlights and happenings. 

• Spending time, both sober and not, with lovely friends.  Always the best basis for any weekend away.
• The lovely souvenirs that we came away with - the 'tiki' glass that my Lovely Irish Friend made me steal (yes, steal) and my lovely Dutch-Irish Friend's questionable calendar.  Luckily, I found the hotel crockery, cushions and general detritus that had been hidden in my luggage whilst my back was turned.  Thanks for that boys.
• Your Disco Needs You.  A Kylie classic that I haven't heard in a club for years.  Literally.  A great end of the night tune.
• Body popping.  Or at least, my Lovely Irish Friend's version of body popping.  A certain someone would be very proud....
• Having to remind myself that the Irish pub wasn't a gay bar.  So STOP SMILING AT THAT GUY.  He's likely to come over and hit you.
• The crane.  Oh boy.
• The Cork accent.  What one earth is that all about?  Surely no-one takes it seriously?
• My Lovely Irish-Dutch Friend holding a fairly decent football conversation with the cab driver who mistook us for 'boys in town for the match'....he he.  I never knew he had it in him.
• Hangar Queen.  What more need I say?
• Free drinks at the Blog Awards.  Helped lubricate the process.  They know what people are after, I'll give em that.
• Finally, the lovely, fey Italian boy on the bus who was exasperated (in a very camp way) that none of his friends were taking his forthcoming wedding to a homely Irish girl seriously.  I can't imagine why they wouldn't.

And that's my weekend in Cork.  I reckon if you were to describe it in liquid terms it'd be something like - a dozen bottles of Heineken, a dozen or so pints of same; a large handful of JD cokes and a slightly smaller handful of gin tonics; a full fat coke to pick me up; two lattes and a couple of lunchtime 'fancy colas'.  

The weekend would be far easier to sum up in musical terms.  Super easy in fact.  

I give you two words.  Lady GaGa.  

Really.  It's little wonder that I feel like hell, is it?