I felt so rotten for leaving the CVs back at the office. Then Simon walked in carrying them. Didn’t know whether to hug him or hit him. I’m grateful he picked them up off my desk. No worries.
We had six interviews and were scheduled to leave at 5:30 PM on the rapid Irish Ferry from the Dublin port. It’ll be good to get home to my little flat.
(Written later…) Lots of good interviews today. But as Simon said, “It’s exhausting being good for seven hours.”
But it looks like I spoke too soon about the ferry. Our 5:30 express ferry was cancelled for repairs (it ran into the wharf in Holyhead Wales.) The only one available is a 9 PM one that won’t get in until 12:30 AM. And if we drove straight through I wouldn’t get home until 3 or 3:30 and Simon an hour after that. So Simon had to cancel his meeting for tomorrow in another part of the UK. And get this—there’s snow there, a highly unusual occurrence. So don’t know if we’ll be able to drive home once we land in the UK anyway. Yikes. There are no snow plows, or even salt trucks. Double Yikes!
Right now we’re sitting in our interview room just waiting for time to pass. Am trying to stay awake enough to do some work.
(Later--) we ended up going to the Widow Scallon’s a pub across the street from the hotel. I finally had a “pint” but it wasn’t Irish beer. I wanted a lager and they were out, so I got a Carlsberg, which is a German beer, I think. Sure tasted good. My first beer in Ireland.
(Still later--) Now I’m once again in the James Joyce Balcony Lounge, but things are quite different than they were on the trip to Ireland. First of all it’s 11:10 PM and I’m exhausted. Where’s Simon, you might ask? Good question.
He decided that since we paid extra for the Rapid Ferry that didn’t materialize, he was going to see if we could get a stateroom for free. We were told we’d have to wait until after we left port because they didn’t know how many freight drivers were going to need cabins. After we ate something he went to have a fag (cigarette) while I came up to the balcony to read. Soon I saw him crook a finger at me and when I joined him, he grinned, “I’ve been naughty.” But he wouldn’t tell me about it except to say, “Don’t get mad.” I followed him to our cabin. He indeed got it for free. It was large, with two beds and a huge bathroom that was wheelchair accessible. In between bouts of giggles he confessed. He’d told the purser that the reason he’d booked the earlier rapid ferry was that he was traveling with his decrepit, disabled mother and she couldn’t sit for more than an hour at a time, so they gave him the stateroom gratis. I was so mad, I said, “I’m the one who got in trouble with immigration because I wouldn’t lie about why I was in the UK, and you’re lying on my behalf?” Then I too began laughing and couldn’t stop. So I crawled into my bed and finally the giggles subsided. Just as I was relaxed enough so that I could maybe doze off, the noise of the engines got so loud that I could hardly stand it. Wait—the engines were in the room. Wait—the engines were in the bed across the cabin. Wait—the engines were coming from Simon’s mouth. Snores! Oh crap. So I got up, put on my shoes, went to the galley, grabbed a hot chocolate, and here I sit. With the other stateroom-less people in the James Joyce Balcony Lounge. (Sigh.)
(Later--) The trip through Wales was without incident. When we drove into England, we hit a little snow on the ground. Nothing major. But when we got to Altrincham the roads were icy and dangerous. Simon lives in the Peak District (with wife Sarah and kids Franny and Nathan). There was about 5 inches of snow there, since they live about 1000 metres above sea level.
As for me, I walked in the door, dropped things on the floor, and crawled into bed about 3:15 AM.
POSTED 29 January 6:36 PM UK Time
posted by Jerilyn Dufresne, author @ 12:35
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