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No rush to get up this morning. I lie in until 8:30, before trailing down to the bar for breakfast.

As every other day, I get myself a traditional Irish breakfast. It’s about the perfect size for mer. Substantial enough, but sufficient to lie like a stone in my stomach all day.

At one off the other tables a Chinese woman is videoing herself eating a cooked breakfast. There’s a first. She doesn’t seem too keen on the black pudding. Me, I love the stuff. Bloody and puddingy at the same time. Yum.
Straight after breakfast, I pack up my stuff and check out. Before grabbing a cab to the airport. Terminal 1 is what I need. And where I go.

I’m not checking in a bag. Which makes the process pretty speedy. Especially with my pushy-in boarding. The only question now is: where’s the lounge?

It’s not much of a walk. Thankfully. I park my arse on a seat and then approach the bar. WTF. There’s a sign saying only two alcoholic drinks per customer. I wonder why that is? Local rules, perhaps.

That’s a bastard. No chance of getting very pissed before boarding. Just as well I won’t be here for that long. I have to nurse my drinks. Luckily, it’s a fairly decent measure.

I get myself some cheese and bits of salad to go with my whiskey. Before firing up my flip-flop and getting on with the serious business off getting angry with the internet. It’s my favourite pastime.

The flight is on time. And, with reasonable timing, arrive at the gate five minutes or so before boarding begins.

The flight is full again. But it’s just up and down, really, with a sandwich and a bottle of water for service.

Unlike on the way out, where the bus started from right at the end of D pier, we’re dumped right at its start. Saving a shitload of walking.

The stairs down to passport control are cordoned off. Though I see a couple of people let through. When I go to take the lift, a security guard asks: “What sort of passport do you have?” When I reply: “Dutch” I’m allowed to continue.

Downstairs I see why. There’s a long queue for other passports. But the machines for EU passports are empty. I just roll on straight through. I’m so glad I got myself a Dutch passport

Tea, as usual, is waiting for me when stumble through our front door.



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