And so my mini-Dublin trip comes to an end as tonight I fly to Oslo for part deux of Tiernan's impulsive holiday adventure. Today shall transcend my journey from its lovely chilled hanging with Keith and Ginny into snow storm Bear Grylls type adventure as I have to kill polar bears with my bear hands (these are the hands I use just for killing bears with) and surf on whales and high five a yeti. Well you know, after I stay with my friend Jonathan in Oslo for a night and er, ahem, check out of my hotel in Tromso. If there's time between all that and flying home. Survival! Of the shittest. You're just lucky this time polar bears. Just bloomin' lucky. That's all.
What I've learnt in my short time in Dublin, aside from a ton of interesting Irish politics and history, is that I am crap with a camera. My parents bought me a swanky (yes I used that word, don't judge me) new digital camera for my birthday, and so far in Ireland I've used it twice. That's it. Twice. Once was for this:
That's Keith playing Mario Kart on the SNES at the Game On exhibition. He looks that gormless as he can't believe I've kicked his arse quite so hard on the first go. There were a few other photos of this but due to me moving before the shutter had closed or brightness of the games screen they all look like a series of pictures used for some sort of subliminal hypnosis. That is, if you wanted to hypnotise someone into thinking they were a shit photographer. The other picture was this:
Which is an ancient Irish deer or elk or moose (I didn't really pay attention) in Trinity College. Whatever it is, it looked awesome and I'd like one in our flat back home. You could use the antlers as a hat stand. Bonus. I did want to take other pictures. Particularly of The Long Room, which is the old library at the university. It's more Hogwarts than anything I've seen or read about in Harry Potter and its vast hall contains incredible looking books of yore. I'm sure if I was actually allowed to read them they'd contain dull reference indexes and such, but in my head they are all full of spells apart from one which causes the shelves to revolve and reveal a secret passage where they keep goblins and treasure. I did try to have a closer look at things but there was a scary looking female security guard keeping her eye on my and Ginny. This may have been to do with my exclaiming slightly too loud that some of the pictures of Catholics being tortured in 1641 were 'awesome'. I did of course mean the artwork. Of course. Oh and finding out that when St Lawrence was being grilled alive he said ' this side's done, turn me over and have a bite.' Legendary. Take that John McClane, St Lawrence was a proper hard ass. Or crispy ass I suppose.
Apparently the Dean of Trinity College is allowed to hang one Catholic per annum from the Campanile on the campus and yet hasn't for years. I'm amazed that these laws are kept up on principal. Nothing against Catholics of course, but if you're totally allowed to do that, there could be a vote and they could get rid of some real arseholes. Same with the law in Chester that you can shoot a Welshman with a bow and arrow within the city walls after midnight. Let's all get together and kill Duffy. Ok, ok welshman. We'll paint a 'tache on her first. All I'm saying is that they're all there for a reason, we shouldn't let it go to waste.
So back to the point, I've always relied on other people's photos or my memory to capture things, eventually warping them into how I'd like to remember them and sullying any real recollection of events. I hate people that sit through music gigs taking pictures or seeing amazing views through a lens instead of actually just seeing them. Until I get home that is, they show me all the awesome pictures and I'm hugely unable to remember most of the occasion because beer has taken my brain away. Consequently lots of things are lost and people with cameras win. So I'm gonna get my snapshots on in Norway. Prepare for lots of half arsed pictures of my feet in snow, my pocket and my glove covered thumb.