Looks like the shitty sterling search was just the start of it!

So, picked Harry up from school Thursday and we hightailed it to Dublin Port.  Ringing Darren on the way to find out if I was actually going through Dublin Port and not Dun Laoghaire. Also had to check which terminal I was going from . . .  does it sound like it's going bad yet?  Anyway, got ferry, got lunch and sat back and relaxed i.e. Harry read his book and I slept.  Then up onto the sun deck upon which the sun obligingly shone and watched land loom into view as Holyhead appeared.  Into car, sat nav kept telling us to turn right into the port before boarding the ferry.  Hmmm?  Motoring nicely along for about 35 minutes before 'BANG', the back tyre blew out.  Thank parents that there was no one behind us and I managed to get the car across two lanes  onto hard shoulder.  Most of tyre on road behind me.  Still shaking I rang a recovery crew.  They arrived 25 minutes later only to tell me 'er, eh, the car's facing the wrong way for a tow'.  'Really, it's facing the way it should be for someone heading to England'.  Him: 'I'll see if we can get a truck to lift you. . . . . no, he's got a car on him . . .  have to turn you around'.  He turned me around and off we went to some place called . .  argh, will remember later, it;s near Rhyl.  Aaargh, ABERGELLY.  So we were left beside a garage that was shut until 10.30 this morning.  The guy, tosser,  recommended the hotel across the road from the laneway we were stashed in as being a grand little hotel for 'me and the kiddie'.  It was called 'The Bee Hotel'.  What can I say?  We sat there for ten minutes whilst I tried to work out what to do.  In that time there was a fight outside and the music got louder and louder.  Oh, and it had cost me £141 to get towed there, nice.  So, I rang the RAC and pretended I was my cousin.  She said to do it!!!!!!  They said they'd be with me in 45 minutes.  They weren't.  They were THREE HOURS.  In that three hours we saw two fights and a couple started shagging ON the car in front of us.  They couldn't see us because the  windows are tinted.  I set off our car alarm to make them move on.   They moved on.  Did I mention that the hotel had a big sign on it saying 'GET YOUR JUGS OUT FOR £6!!!!!' 

Where are the RAC?????  They did arrive, at midnight and made me an offer.  They couldn't take the car to Erdington as they say they can in their ads but they could give me a hire car (shame about the 3 hour drive ahead of you love - sorry, but do I look like anyone's fucking love right now???) or I could stay in a Premier Inn and have car delivered back to me in the morning.  I took the hotel option.  Bad.  Bad.  Bad move.  Can't diss the hotel, it was a lovely hotel but they wouldn't take cash???  They don't like taking cash until you have ID.  I did have ID but not ID that said I was someone whose identity I was borrowing  for the ease and pleasure of dealing with the RAC.  £76 for the night.  That included a full breakfast for me and Harry (I mention this because it's important later) and off we fell to bed.  Can't fault the hotel, okay, so everything was nailed down but the pillows were lovely and squashy and the duvet was nice and warm.  Poor Harry, made him snuggle me as I was bloody freezing after wrapping him in my jacket in the car for THREE HOURS.  He tried to resist but I convinced him he should at least let me stick my feet on his back.   He did it to me for years.  When I had sucked all his heat out I fell asleep.    We went down to breakfast and had a continental breakfast followed by a British Isles Fry Up.  We don't like welsh sausages.  Harry pointed out that 'kids eating breakfast with a paying adult could eat free' so we went to tell the Receptionist that we'd been overcharged the night before.  Apparently kids only eat free when they just drop by with their parents and not when they are actually staying at the hotel.  ?????  I asked if they would let us keep the room til one as the car was due back then.  She had to ask two managers.  They agreed to 12.30.  It was only 9.30 now and me and H had nothing to read, look at, play with or anything.  Oh, and the hotel (the Afon Conwyn) only had 6 tv channels so we had a choice between Political Review of the Election, The Night Garden or 'Super teeth whitening stuff' programme.

We chose the Night Garden.  Then we played with the coverlet on the bed that was made of some sort of velvety stuff so when you brushed it one way it made a pattern so we played x's and o's on it for 2 minutes until we got bored.  We then danced to the Night Garden a bit.  Then we both took turns showering - nothing like hotel showers.  Except in the Premier Inn where they seem to limit you to 15 minutes of hot water.  All for the environment I'm sure.

I rang the Recovery people again only to find out that they were in fact 'not entirely being honest' with the noon delivery of car thing.  Turns out they only get tyres in at 1pm and, well, it should be here by 2.  The car that is.  It was now only 11am!!!  Me and H watched the Moon Spinners on BBC1 - don't bother.  Then they hotel started knocking on the door.  They needed the room back????  So we waited downstairs on the picnic benches outside.  We couldn't go anywhere you see because the fucking hotel was on a fucking island surrounded by fucking motorways.  Yeah, cheerful Niamh had at this point left the building.  Rang the North Wales Recovery people again at 2 and was basically told that if I didn't watch my attitude they could decide that the car wouldn't be ready until . . . well, whenever it suited them.  I have to point out, at this time there was no attitude.  I was so tired and tear-y that I just wanted to be in my auntie Lily's house.  I mean, at this point I was so frustrated I was actually crying.  When I looked up, so was Harry.  What a sight we must have made sitting outside that hotel.  With our bags, hugging each other, telling each other it would be okay etc. etc.  But despite lots of people walking by giving us those 'aww, I wonder what's happened there' looks not one of the welsh feckers asked if there was anything they could do!!!!!  I'd left my house 20  hours previously and just wanted to be gone.  Plus, I was shitting it about driving again in case the same thing happened.  Myself and H. went into hotel bar/cafe and Harry ordered a hot chocolate and just as it arrived so did the car.  I handed over another £120 and Harry said 'feck it, hot chocolate is shite, let's go'.  So we did.

We got to Birmingham 27, yup, TWENTY SEVEN HOURS after we'd left Dublin. 

We were met with cheers, hugs and, best of all, big mugs of tea.  Nat is rotund with child, Finn was delighted to see us, Mike is himself and Lily. . .  my lovely auntie Lily is moving again with only crutches and despite looking a little older looks bloody brilliant.  Went to a most excellent cinema in Birmingham city called The Electric which is the oldest working cinema in Birmingham.  You get to sit on proper sofas, with little tables and lights.  You text them from your seat and they bring you delicious things to eat like houmous and chips and champagne!!  Coke if you're Nat and Pimms if you're me.  Iron Man 2 rocks by the way.

Home to bed, Harry conked, next day to Manchester to meet Clo and collect what's remaining of her life in Manchester before she begins life anew with my brother in law in Brussels.  Back to Birmingham.  Dinner, chatting, family guy and bed.

Ouch,  headache, tablets, shower, bed, Harry awake, breakfast, back to bed for Hary whereupon he pretty much read his book to me cos 'it;s so funny mam, you've got to hear this'.  Up and downstairs to have tea and toast in the back garden I love so much before hitting the road at 11am.  Nice, quiet journey through England.  Nervous drive through Wales, just in case.  Saw the marks on the road where we'd skidded and saw what left of our tyre.  Thanked mam and dad again.  Ice-cream, McDonalds and Whoooohoooo, we're on the fast ferry and . . .  now we're home.  Going to bed as shattered.  Fucking hate North Wales Recovery.  One pickup tow guy was nice but the people in the office suck and as for the fecker who recommended the bee hotel???  A pox on him!

Love Dublin.  Love my boys, love Darren. 

ps Had snails for lunch yesterday, chewy!