I haven't got a title ......Ireland trip...Part..5c

Have you ever tried having a romantic 'intimate moment' at a rock festival?

...You know, just you and that 'special other' wanting to spend some time alone. Away from the rest of the world.

No?- Well don't even bother trying....'cos it ain't gonna happen....

......I had met a fantastically gorgeous girl you see, who's name was Antoinette - and that's exactly what we were looking for...
I knew we were gonna get on very well from the very beginning, just as soon as she asked me for my sausage....Always a good sign....(she was Irish, btw, not french).

....Let me explain a little...

....The morning after the first day at Feile .....

.....saw me hungover and sat in the middle of a dew covered field. I was with a few thousand other revelers in various states of waking up, going to bed, getting dressed, or undressed, or starting to getting drunk again.

I had decided that food may just be a very good idea – I knew the battering I was going to give my poor body throughout the rest of day, so some sustenance at the very beginning of the day was a sound strategy.

I had never realized just how expensive festival food was... Not up until then anyway.

....First of all, I had to arrange a mortgage on my house - to buy a standard bacon and egg's 'full Irish breakfast'.
I then had to re- mortgage my house to get some extra baked beans and fried bread!
I was screwed if I wanted coffee...

After paying for my 'full Irish ', I lowered myself down to the ground - all Zen like, crossing my legs under me, as I sat.

At which point, my house priced breakfast decided it no longer wanted to stay on my plate, and wanted to migrate to the field.
Talk about an immigration crisis!

Fortunately for me a very petite doc marten boot stopped the mass exodus from my plate, by tilting the edge of it with a boot toeend.

Calamity avoided, I looked up to see who the owner of the said boot tip was.

The owner of the boot was gorgeous...
Drop dead, take my breath away, kind of gorgeous

With long spirals of black curly hair, and bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously ( in a way that only Irish girls can seem to pull off).

She said brightly, "Can I have your sausage, then?" ...me just drowning in her soft Irish accent, she went on, "I did just save your entire breakfast, like."

"Have a seat, you share more than my sausage," I said, smiling back at her, " I couldn't afford to lose this...have you seen the prices? I'd be homeless if I have to get another..."

She beamed a smile at me. It was a heart melting beam of a smile.

I motioned for her to sit down next to me. "There's a place here with ya name on it," I said, "Well, there would be if I knew your name.."

She sat down, and opened her mouth wide, moving her head towards me.
I fed my sausage slowly into her mouth...and then she bit it in half.
(get yer head out of the gutter).

She then told me her name was Antoinette, but everyone called her 'Anto'.
I called her Antoinette.
A beautiful name, and it matched her delicate features perfectly - why spoil it?
It fitted perfectly.

After she had my sausage, she then let me feed her some fried bread, dripping in baked beans.
Who said romance was dead, uh?
And so our morning foreplay continued, until we had eaten up...

With our breakfast finished, we decided it was then time to walk into Thurles.

Thurles was a small town with a population of approximately Ten.
Eleven if you counted the dog.

To say it was in meltdown at the arrival of 130,000 party people descending upon the place all within twenty four hours, is probably a fair description.
Not to look a gift horse, the Ten pubs in Thurles were now open 24/7 to cater for the masses. (Lots of people kind of masses, not religious ceremony type)

Back in those days, the normal 'pub number to population' in Ireland, tended to be at a ratio of approximately 1:1.
(They had an off license for the dog, I think.)

We were walking quickly into Thurles to get the drinking day started - it could have been as late as 9:30 a.m.! , but hey - it's a holiday....relax..

As we walked in the general direction of the town, Antoinette took a hold of my hand and looked up at me.She stopped walking and turned, smiling.

...and then we kissed....
And then we kissed some more.

And that was it just like that, we were together.

We spent the day drinking and kissing. Lot's of kissing....And she insisted on sitting on my knee in all the pubs we staggered into- which was nice...

Oh, yes! .... We also watched some live music in the football stadium. The rock festival, and all that...I had almost forgotten about that part...

It was a big football stadium.
I did wonder how they managed to field a football team from Thurles though.
Considering that the population of Thurles was ten.
There was more players than that on each side of a football team. How did that work?
Maybe the dog played goalie, or something? I dunno.
One of life's unanswered mysteries....

Later on in the day as the sun was going down both me an Antoinette were drunk, tired, and needed some rest.

"Back to my tent, mademoiselle,? " I asked.

"Oh go on then, ya charmer, you persuaded me." She smiled, and so we set off to find a tent - in a sea of tents.

Finding a tent in a sea of identical tents is hard work, and after ten hours of drinking, it doesn't make it any easier.
It's most definitely not to be advised as a fun pastime.

It took me well over an hour -and Antoinette couldn't even help – she had no idea what the tent looked like, although I did say at one point,
"Let's just pick any tent, they're all the bloody same!"

We came across the tent.... eventually.
I was very looking forward to getting Antoinette all to my self by this point..

I opened the tent, and looked in to make sure it was actually the right one....and hey ! Chris and my bro were there already!
Fast asleep, snoring loudly. (Was that a fart I just heard?) Nice.

My idea of a passionate few hours with my new sexy girlfriend did not include two snoring idiots occupying the same space.
I was not a happy chappy, it has to be said.

And other options were very limited....
I would have happily gone and found a hotel room for the both of us, for the entire weekend, no problem.
BUT..
Thurles had a population of ten.
And 130, 000 thousand visitors.

I didn't even bother trying to find a room.

"Ya got a car down't cha?" She said "We could get some rest there,.."

"Yeah, I suppose," I said.

It wasn't rest I was thinking about, it was exercise.
"We'd better not be getting much rest," She said, winking and squeezing my hand.. "Sleeping in cars is shoiyte"
(trying to work out the phonetic spelling of a soft Irish sexy accent, is hard ).

And so we skipped off to my car.
Now a car is most definitely not the most romantic place for a first time romp, I think we can all agree.

A car in a field with thousands of drunken people staggering around, even less so.

We didn't care.
We were so into each other, and so hot for each other - the world was outside, and we were in our own little world, inside.
The car was shaking it has to be said - we were going for it!

Then we both realized it wasn't our passion shaking the car at all - it was the six or seven people outside watching us and enjoying the show. They were shaking the car.

That cooled our passion.. a little...
One small victory though – the windows were so steamed up, our uninvited voyeurs they couldn't really see much of ANYTHING...
(...this was years before 'dogging' came into vogue - I wonder if we started a trend?).

They soon lost interest and moved away... but we had lost no interest each other...
You can guess the rest, just put your head back down into the gutter...

Someone had also left us a present !!!!!

It was one of those polaroid 'instant photo's', that people used, back in the day.

It was tucked under the wiper blade of the car for us to find, after we had emerged from our love nest.

....I never knew my bum was so white