After the match, Mrs. London tweeted this photo of herself with the caption,
"This is going to be the best night ever!!!" She was right.
The match was over, Mr. London had won, and it was time to celebrate (in fairness we would have been celebrating even if he hadn't of won because 1. we're Clermont fans and 2. I had an epic night already on the books... I like to plan these things).
Table for twelve was booked at 37 Dawson Street (me, ten cousins, and Gatz... of course Gatz). It was a mini family reunion of sorts. Mrs. London hadn't been around her Irish cousins in yonks and I thought she was due a wee reminder of how awesome we are (we're a very modest family).
Cocktails first (proper cocktails... Dublin I missed you so!), dinner, lots of chatter and naughty laughter (we're a naughty bunch my cousins and I), followed by more cocktails. The restaurant happens to also be a late night bar (and now you know why I chose it) so we were in no hurry to leave, which was good, because a little bit after dinner, Mr. London abandoned his Heineken Cup duties and came looking for his man.
Actually he came to collect him and then go off with some of the other players (we made him take Gatz as well) which was great because that meant that Mrs. London, cousin Lou and I were left with an evening to ourselves.
We look so sweet and harmless don't we? MUAHAHAHA!
Since it was already almost 2AM and as much as we loved 37 Dawson Street, it was kind of, been there, done that, we sauntered off looking for our next adventure... Grafton Lounge wasn't it. We walked in, and walked out. Not our scene at all. So we gave Lillies Bordello a go. I used to like it there, but it's definitely lost it's je ne sais quoi. And that's when I had a stroke of genius... Temple Bar.
Sure Temple Bar is raucous and full of tourists, but two of us were sort of tourists, so why not. But first we had to get there. Now anyone that knows Dublin knows that the walk from Grafton Street (where Lillies is) to Temple Bar is not a long hike, but when you've been wobbling on your stilettos for hours and the clock is on the wrong side of midnight, it feels like miles, and that's where Diego came in.
Diego was the bike taxi man we found outside Lillies. He delivered us safely to Temple Bar despite the heckles from the cab. Diego was our hero. (Poor, poor Diego. After peddling us around, I'm pretty sure he promptly quit and went searching for a quiet office job first thing Monday morning.)
Unfortunately at 3AM, Temple Bar is beginning to shut it's doors to new customers, but fortunately, the third time was the charm as the third pub we walked up to finally opened it's doors to us. Of course that was all down to Lou's plea to the bouncer... "Please sir, I just want a quiet drink with my cousins. I never get to see them and after tonight, I don't know when I'll see them again. We won't be any trouble, I promise. Please." It was pathetic, and I'm pretty sure there was a pouty bottom lip involved, but it worked.
And that same pathetic, pouty lipped plea worked when the pub was closing and everyone was being asked to leave. The Polish bouncers took pity on the pouty plea and our sad faces, walked us around to the residence bar of a hotel where they know the bouncers (I think all bouncers know each other), and sat with us while we had our final drink of our adventurous night and they had they after work dinner/ breakfast. And then as 5AM crept up, our own private Polish security squad, escorted us to our taxi and sent us safely on our way home. The end.
P.S. The Husband arrived home even later that we did! He walked in a few minutes before 9AM. But as he had picked up the newspaper on his way, my Aunt and Uncle assumed that he had already been home, and had gone back out to get the paper. The moral of the story is... if you ever need to sneak into the house in the wee hours, pick up a newspaper on the way.
P.P.S. Despite how I ended this post, this is not in fact the last chapter of my Dublin tales, there's a little bit left to tell you. I wrote 'the end' there simply because I felt like it, not because it's actually, the end. However, there will be a brief intermission... I'm flying to England in a few hours and won't be back until next week. À bientôt mes amies!