If I Should Fall from Grace With God

Day 5 brought us into Northern Ireland, leaving from Dublin and driving north to Belfast. We traveled through Drogheda, a town savaged by British forces in 1649 when the town raised up a rebellion against Oliver Cromwell. Sir Arthur Ashton, the leader of that rebellion, was, according to my guidebook, "bludgeoned to death with his own leg." Now, I maintain that the ankle bone by itself would make a better bludgeoning tool than the entire leg, but Mike makes a case for using the knee joint as a kind of nunchuku. Al would prefer the humurus bone, but then he's a scuker for irony. Anyway, we're all anxious to try these techniques on Joel when we return home.

We then stopped in Lisburn, because the three of us have always been fascinated with Lisbians. We did some much needed laundry there, and I nearly ran off with some curry chips.

Befast was quite lively for a Tuesday night, and we met many characters in Fibber McGee's tavern, including a guy called Des who tried to interest us in a giantic block of hash. We had to explain that we were only here for the booze. I also had the Mike-like experience of making fun of Riverdance to a fellow from Northern England who later told me he worked stage crew. For Riverdance. There's an interesting game you can play in Belfast where you try to sort out the parts of the pub that are original and the parts that were put in to replace the parts that had been bombed. Still, despite what we heard from many in the Republic, the Befasturians were quite friendly and welcoming.

Despite our late start and a low round count, Belfast put us deeper into our cups than any night previous.

Round Round-Up, Part Fif:

• 1 at Eg Bar
• 1 at the Globe
• 1 at the Royal Crown Pub
• 1 at the Hotel Europa Bar, part of "the most bombed hotel in Belfast," though everyone we saw there seemed quite sober indeed
• 4 at Robinson's/Fibber McGee's -- Fibber's was so crowded, we bought our pints at Robinson's and brought them into the back door of Fibber's.