I’m back from my flying visit to Ireland - and flying was, in fact, the source of much hassle at the start of vacation. The day that was supposed to be spent in Dublin instead wound up being spent at Gatwick: our morning flight had been cancelled (because a millimeter of snow is enough to bring this country to a standstill), and the next flight out wasn’t until four in the afternoon.

This put us in a bit of a quandary. Gatwick is only half an hour from Brighton by train, so it seemed like we should have been able to go back home and spend the day there - but that would have involved buying more train tickets, getting another taxi, and then sitting at home, twiddling our thumbs, and watching the clock before we had to make the whole trip in reverse again. Alternatively, we could have popped up to London, which is also only a half-hour by train. But the same problems would have applied, and we would have had the additional burden of carrying bags around with us.

In the end, we decided to just hunker down in the airport for the next 7 hours (which turned out to be 9 hours, because our second flight was delayed, of course). There are certainly worse airports to be stuck in - Heathrow, Dallas and JFK spring to mind - but after a number of hours, tedium sets in nonetheless. Jeremy amused himself with the free wireless Internet access in the "departure lounge". I amused myself with window-shopping for a while, but by the late afternoon the window-shopping had turned into actual shopping, and after buying a pen, some makeup and some Body Shop shampoo out of sheer boredom, I made myself sit down and do something less finance-intensive - like take a nap.

So, the hours passed, and the flight eventually took off, and we made it to Dublin and revived ourselves with a few good pints. The rest of the vacation went by in a flash. There were Irish speakers on the train from Dublin, there was a session in Cork, there was lovely seafood in Cobh, there was all-you-can-eat sushi and more Guinness back in Dublin, there was wind and rain, there were green, green fields - and then there was bumpy flight back to Gatwick and quick jaunt home. Not bad for a long weekend, I suppose - but I was thrown right back into the thick of things here, and now I feel as though I never went away at all.

Well, there are good things happening in Brighton, too. In just over a week, Salter Cane will be back in the studio again, and a week after that we’ll be making our London gig debut (I’m already nervous). And a week after that, Jeremy and I will be taking advantage of my little brother’s amazing Christmas gift to us: a romantic weekend in gay Paris. Oh la la!