Dublin KSUC Ball

The Pepys Library at Magdalene, outside the dining hall

I woke up in the morning feeling quite ill.  I should know by now that shots are never a good idea, but it always seems to take mornings like these to remind me of that fact.  

I stumbled through the shower, only to realise once I got out, standing there with my wet hair, that I had forgotten to pack a comb.  I did my best to sort my wet hair out with my fingers, and then make it down to the old dining hall for breakfast.  It was so strange once I got there, as I expected to just grab a tray and run through the cafeteria line, like in the old days, but the staff insisted that I had to go to some special tables that they'd set up, completely laid out with tablecloths and cutlery.  It was truly bizarre, but I struggled through breakfast making polite conversation with the other people there, trying to get some food into my queasy stomach in the hopes of settling it somewhat.  

The gates of Magdalene

Only about 10 people (out of nearly 100 the night before) made it down for breakfast, although as soon as I had packed as much food into my stomach as I could manage, I returned to my room, packed my things, checked out, and then walked into town to buy a comb.  D'oh, what kind of idiot forgets that one?

Still, it was a lovely day to wander around Cambridge a bit, which in the sunshine is always one of the most beautiful places I can think of.  Just such a pretty place!

Magdalene by the waterfront

I took a bus down to the train station, where as I was standing on the platform, I realised I had missed a call from the Young Dutchman, to my great disappointment.  I always enjoy our catch-up calls so much.  Still, I got a pleasant surprise when I sent out a generalised e-mail to the Young Dutchman, Kellogg Boy, and Canadian Balliol Guy (the Three Musketeers), and found myself in an extended conversation with Canadian Balliol Guy, who is back in Canada.  I do miss that guy...

I caught the train to Stanstead, checked my bags, and got in the queue for the RyanAir flight.  I hadn't done one of these flights in a decade, and I swear they were even worse than what I remembered.  Thank goodness the flight was only an hour long, but even that tried my patience.  I was exhausted, but the seats didn't recline, a bit of annoyance that seemed designed purely to make the trip misery for the passenger.  I also did worry as the staff all had such thick accents that I couldn't understand them, making me wonder how useful they would be in a true emergency.  Thankfully, I reminded myself that I was flying BA on the way home.

When I got to Dublin, I was greeted by the friendliest immigration agent of all time, an unusual experience for going through immigration.  I think I might have been his first person of the day (at 3 PM), as he had to change the date on his stamp before he stamped my passport.  He actually had some fun joking with me, as he made to take out a giant stamp that would have taken up an entire page on my passport (and I'm running out of pages in my US passport!), but upon seeing my panicked expression, he laughed and pulled out the small stamp, as even he'd realised I didn't have that many pages to spare.  Probably the first time I've ever had fun making jokes with an immigration agent, and reaffirming the idea that the Irish are among the friendliest people in the world.

With Des

Because my friend Des is amazing, he'd arranged for a driver to pick me up, without me even asking.  He's just extraordinary like that, as that afternoon he'd written saying he was just double-checking my flight info and had given my number to the driver.  And when we got to town, the driver told me that of course Des had taken care of the cost, because he's just fantastic like that.  I almost feel bad sometimes that Des does so much for me, but sometimes he's a true saint who comes through right when I need him to!

With Des

When I got to the Kildare Street and University Club (the KSUC), I texted another old Oxford friend from my Balliol days who now lives in town, and he let me know he'd come meet me for coffee in 30 minutes.  I tried to do my hair the best I could in the time I had, and then made it downstairs to catch up with my old friend.

We went out for coffee and hot chocolate, and after I realised I'd forgotten my Euros back in my room, my friend assured me that he wouldn't have allowed me to pay anyway.  Goodness, I do love these Irish gentlemen!

It was really good to catch up with my old friend, who is doing quite well, and after doing well for himself working in finance has been taking some time off to figure out what he wants to do next.  I have to say, it always makes me happy to learn that my friends are doing well and happy.

My friend walked me back to the club, leaving me with just 10 minutes to change and get ready for the ball, which I'm pretty pleased to say I managed in 15.  Not bad, really!

Touring the club with our hosts

I found the boys in the club bar, and then joined them and two of our Irish hosts for a tour of the club.  It wasn't a large place, but not too small either, so we got to see quite a bit.  We then went to the upstairs bar for drinks, where I was introduced to our hostess for the evening, the Convener (what they call a Chairman) of the Younger Members at the KSUC.  She took it upon herself to introduce me to other people, including a cute paediatrician with a slightly American accent.  It turned out that he had been at Oriel College Oxford ("First in rowing, Last in women!" as he jokingly informed me), and that he'd also played polo at Oxford, which we bonded over.

At pre-dinner drinks in the bar

When it was time to go down to dinner, we got a photo with our group from the Oxford and Cambridge Club, which I was glad that we would have something for the Club News.

Our official group picture

Our hostess had seated me on her table however, which I was actually quite glad of, as I see the folks I know enough anyway, and I was glad to get to meet some new people.  I joked around quite a bit with the paediatrician, and really enjoyed the company of the others on the table.  The girl to my right really seemed determined that I should meet a nice Irish boy and move to Dublin, although I have no idea why she was so keen on that so soon after meeting me!

Our hostess giving her speech

Our hostess gave a short speech, and then we settled into dinner, which was absolutely amazing.  After dessert, she had the staff bring out both dessert wine and port, and we got absolutely silly drunk at the table.

After dinner, there was a dance floor with a DJ set up right in the club, and I was pleased to say that our crowd were among the first on the dance floor, absolutely killing it from the get-go.  I joined our crowds and danced for a bit, although also spent a bit of time in the bar chatting with Des and other random people.

Our club table

As the bar was getting quite hot, I went exploring in the outside areas, where I found much of our crowd, having a breather outside.  We all commented about how every time we all turned around, somebody else was shoving a glass of champagne into our hands, and we never had a chance to buy our own drinks all evening.  The Irish really know how to drink, and they were all determined to show us a good time!

Chatting with random people in the bar

Sometime around 2 AM? 3 AM?  I can't quite be sure, the dancing at the club finally ended, and a bunch of people were going out to a nearby nightclub.  To join the crowds, I walked out of the club without my coat, although I was still so hot from all of the dancing that I didn't notice.

At first I liked arms with the Paediatrician, but our hostess was on his other side, and seemed to be feeling slightly possessive of him, for reasons I wasn't quite clear on.  Yet regardless, I prefer a gentleman who is exclusively paying attention to me, so this wouldn't do at all.  I dropped his arm and linked up with another guy who I vaguely remembered had been sitting at my table at dinner.  He happily puffed up his chest and took on the gentlemanly role, and when he realised I was walking without a jacket, took off his own and draped it around my shoulders.  There is just something so wonderful about having a man offer you his jacket in the cold at the end of the evening, I swear that is really the only reason they need to wear them.

Taking photos on the stairs at 2 AM

We arrived at the nightclub and my protector sorted out my entrance fee, because I'm a girl and I don't pay for stuff.  (I swear, I one day want to add up how much money I've saved by mere virtue of being an attractive girl, it really does save you a pretty penny sometimes).

We got into the club where someone had arranged for a VIP table, although I was very vague on the details at this point, as I was just tipsy and following the crowds.  My protector pretty quickly got me a drink, and we stood around drinking and chatting, and when he disappeared, I found it was only to get me another drink.  I really should have been wise and switched to water at this point, but we only think of these things much later on...

Dancing the night away

At some point then, I found myself sitting on a couch with my gentleman protector, and was surprised when he whispered in my ear, "You're such an incredibly attractive woman, I shouldn't, but I can't help myself."  I was a bit startled, because right up to this point he was just some random guy I'd grabbed ahold of, I hadn't thought about hooking up with him at all.  (Idiotic I know, given the way I'd been leading him on, but I swear I often don't think about why men are so ridiculously nice to me at times).  It was only at this point that I really sat back and looked at him, and realised he wasn't bad-looking at all.

I shrugged to myself.  Why not?  I was on vacation and I hadn't had any fun in a while, so I was certainly game for a bit of play time.  I told him as much, that I was on vacation and wouldn't object to having a bit of strings-free fun while on holiday.  He seemed torn, so I told him it was his choice, and so went back into regular conversation, before he finally seemed to make up his mind, but said that we shouldn't be seen leaving together.

Fine with me, as that's one of the things the Young Dutchman has always taught me, is that you can get away with anything as long as you are discreet.  So he told me to give him a slight head start, and that he would meet me in the downstairs bar.

Dancing in the club

Yet somehow our plans never quite worked out, as when I extracted myself and got to the bar, I couldn't seem to find him anywhere.  Had we just lost each other or had he changed his mind?

After a few circuits of the club, I finally concluded that I had just lost him, and so then set myself to the task of trying to make my way home at 5 AM on the streets of Dublin, with no coat, while wearing a floor-length ballgown, and with no idea where I was.

As always seems to happen to me in these situations, some random guy came up to me and then decided to walk me home.  I kept up polite, if nervous conversation with him, realising that I was quite drunk and vulnerable alone on the streets of Dublin, but to my pleasant surprise, he walked me to the club and then politely left me there, perhaps picking up on my nervousness.  One thing about these Irish boys, they universally seem to be gentlemen!