Ireland

The rain lashed against our faces & the wind bit at our finger tips as the absurdity of a surf trip to Ireland sank in rapidly. We were five in total, knowing each other from Maui, but all conveening from various parts of Europe to vacation in Kerry. It was maddness personified and the pre-trip promise of comedy value began to quickly wane, as we threw the boards on top of the cars. I for one was sure I'd never-ever-ever going to need them.

And yet, the morning broke with sunshine, surf and undisputable truth that 'Sharon would go'

Wetsuit, anorak, scarf & hat.....I'm ready!

Oh wait, I forgot my gloves.

Goofy long boarder on the left is me :-)

Despite what you may think I had a blast and in my shrink wrap casing, was snug as a bug in a rug. However, as my prone surfing isn't the best in peak conditions, it became quickly apparent that I was sadly out of shape.

Still, happy and pleased with myself I left the others surfing and embarked on removing my wet suit. I might well have been oxygen starved and half way up Everest for the amount of effort that every little movement took. Come to find out, the best technique is to drive home and remove it in the hot shower!

I moooooooned this lot whilst de-neopreneing.

So did these guys as I saw my fare share of tightly clenched white bums this trip, the byproduct of wet skin exposed in crispy air.

It's not called the Emerald Isle for nothing and the grass is norished by all the moisture that helps manufacture some of the greenest cholorphil I've ever seen.

And the best Guinness, in the best pub 'James Ashe' you've ever tasted.