One last day of Festing

- Three days at the Fest! A new personal record!

- 'Breakfast' for Eric and myself (Katy having had to leave town for work) was a Guinness cheesecake at the tea room. Brilliant! (and then I remember the adverts and leave my reaction in anyway)

- There was a lot of wandering around for us. As much as I love Irish Fest, by day three (it opened on Thursday so it was day four of the Fest) I was a bit tired. I did not seem to be the only one having that problem. As much as I liked some of the bands we visited, by Sunday, standing for a hour and a half set was no longer a viable option.

- I feel like I've been on the Crusher diet: beer, sausage, walking, more beer. I feel very fit from all the activity, despite the rich food I ate and all the beer I drank.

- The only music I know that involves more clapping than Irish music is the music of the planet Alflakaka which requires not only yourself clapping in order to hear the music properly but that of your clone and at least one version of yourself from an alternate dimension. For some reason it HAD to be an alternate dimension as opposed to an older or younger version of yourself from the same timeline. I've yet to get it to work. A weekend's of Irish music has left my hands quite sore from clapping.

- Ended the music appreciation with a performance by Richard Thompson. His name was familiar to me but I couldn't recall why. One man, one voice, one guitar, one brilliant show. Seriously, a great storyteller and I wasn't for a second disappointed that I'd been talked into sitting there for him, not even when Eric's mum spilled beer on me. It turned out that the beer was for me and that she hadn't really spilt all that much of it so no harm was done at all. Except, perhaps, for the damage to my liver but I'd been punishing that all weekend already.

- Shirt I wanted to get for my youngest brother Joe: Caution - Irish temper and German stubborness.

- 'When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth' I wore my 'Dawn of the Dead' shirt on Sunday because, in my mind, zombies and Irish Fest go together like peanut butter and jelly, salt and pepper, Guinness and... more Guinness. You know, natural combinations.

- It feels weird to not have Irish Fest to go to today. At least I don't have to go back to work straight away like Eric did. Of course, he and his family are headed to Ireland on Thursday so my sympathy is somewhat reduced. Till next year!