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(and buckle up for Guiness)

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It’s official: the trip to Ireland has moved from the “Wouldn’t it be lovely?” stage to the “Print virtually your boarding pass before Ryanair charges you a kidney” stage. Yes, there’s no alternative from Carcassonne to Ireland—unless, of course, you fancy walking, hitchhiking, or attempting the Celtic Sea on a lilo. So, Ryanair it is: the fastest, cheapest, and possibly least glamorous way to catapult oneself from the medieval towers of Carcassonne straight into the heart of Dublin.

Day after tomorrow, we land. On the very same afternoon, like some kind of European summit but with more pints than politics, we’re due to meet our friends: C and J flying in from England, and A and S swooping in from Germany. The plan? Reconvene in a pub close to our accommodation, where the first couple to land gets the enviable task of choosing between a couple of options. (May the luck of the Irish—and a decent Wi-Fi signal—be with them.)

As for tonight? Nothing dramatic. Just the ritual of online check-in: click, confirm, pray you don’t get assigned a middle seat between a stag party and someone with a leaking sandwich. Boarding passes printed, spirits high, Guinness glasses practically clinking in the distance.

Ireland, we’re coming for you. 🍀