…But only because I can’t get there on a fast train. Not a huge fan of flying, it doesn’t scare me, I just find it uncomfortable and dull. If I could afford to travel first class I am sure that I would feel very different about it. So after spending 24hrs on a plane with no sleep at all, I arrive in London to find that an Icelandic volcano has closed the airport and my connecting flight to Belfast has been cancelled…of course. A the strange thing is this doesn’t surprise me at all. I am quiet a good traveler apparently, or at least not an easily fazed one. Plan B….a ferry to Dublin and then find my way to Northern Ireland. The ferry ride is pleasant if vaguely surreal, at least for me. The ferry between Wales and Dublin is an exact replica of the one the travels between Melbourne and Tasmania. Every Carpet and fitting, every nut and bolt….the only point of difference between them was the gift shop. In Australia the gift shop is fill with Stuffed Tasmanian Devils, not Leprechauns….but other than that? I enjoyed the trip to Dublin far more than Dublin itself, probably due to the fact I was in the tourist strip, my hotel offered “A Full English” breakfast, that should have been a warning. So I viewed the statues, they like a statue in Dublin, and walked the streets, and drank a beer or three in an Irish pub….but I really wasn’t feeling it. I hadn’t drawn a stroke since landing…I was starting to worry….