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The Conan Doyle. Beeyooteefull.
The phone died, so not pictured is the National Gallery and some wandering.
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Very early flight to Edinburgh. Hallo, sunrise.
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Saying farewell to our hostel and Zappa, the bathroom gatekeeper.
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Went to the Guiness Museum, which is quite generous with its samples.
We are now certified pourers.
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More of the Moher.
Jokes. We make them.
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Clicfs of Moher. GAAAAAAH never not pretty.
Also, we had the best group of bus drivers/tour guides. Une example: one of the drivers did a rendition of Aqua’s Barbie Girl, but with lyrics about Barbie/girl sheep.
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Phone was out of commission for a few days i.e. we kept forgetting to charge it. Not pictured: Jameson distillery, Trinity College, and Kilmainham jail.
Here we are, your windswept intrepid travellers on our way to the cliffs of Moher.
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Gilbert accepting the swankfest challenge aboard the S.S. London to Dublin.
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Taking the unexpextedly swanky ferry from London to Dublin. This ferry had everything: a restaurant, a movie theatre, a Teen Lounge a.k.a an arcade, and childactyls, which is that thing of when children screech at great length as though they were half human half pterodactyl.
