Kinsale 1992

 

The love of something beginning with 'G' took the Society to Kinsale in Ireland. To hell with the Golf, we were there for the Guinness. The squad of Fritz, Keith, Tony, Gavin, Dave A.,Steve, Dave F. and Andy flew into Dublin and then onto Cork before making our way to the picturesque village of Kinsale. It was full of restaurants and pubs but it didn't take us long to make one of them our local - the Greyhound. The Guinness was wonderful with even the lager 'drinkers' converted to the black stuff. Mind you, looking at everyone the following morning did cast doubts on the assertion that 'Guinnness is Good for You'.

The golf was pretty good with the clubs friendly and informal. If anyone can remember the names of any of the courses let me know and I will add them into the report. I do remember most were difficult to find with the Irish signposts as reliable as Gavin in providing an aid to navigation.

Keith wasn't able to play golf as he had broken a finger playing cricket - the first of a long line of injuries. On most days he accompanied us around the course offering invaluable advice on stance, swing, alignment etc. We were all terribly grateful for his advice although it made sod all difference to how we played(crap!). Walking round golf courses not playing did wear a bit thin and on one day in particular Keith got absolutely wasted in the company of Tom, an Irish guy some of us had met on a ski holiday, who joined for a few days in Kinsale.

It wasn't all golf and Guinness. One day we went site-seeing and travelled to a ruined castle where we all kissed the Blarney stone. The story goes that kissing the stone bestows the 'gift of the gab', so quite why Keith felt it necessary to kiss the stone, I'll never know. It was good fun and one of the rare occassions we have done something other than golf or drink!

However it was the boozy night and sing songs in the Greyhound that is my lasting memory. The pouring of the Guinness was an art form and it's worth looking at this photo I took of pints settling. Over the week we had proved such good customers that the woman who owned the pub made us an offer we couldn't refuse - would we all like a blowjob? After forming an orderly queue we were just a little disappointed when she reappeared with a tray of cocktails bearing that name!

 

NF