Grumpy Tummy

We’re in Galway, now, and we will be for a couple of days. The car has been returned to the Budget People, so moving is now a bit more of a hassle. That’s OK with me; the time spent in motion and looking for a place to stay each day is time that could be put to better use.

Unfortunately, last night I was unable truly appreciate this. We sat at the King’s Head, but halfway through my Guinness I started feeling queasy. After the second one I was decidedly ill. I thought eating would help, but that was not the case at all. fuego and MaK gushed over their Irish stew, while I stared listlessly at my potato soup. We repaired to the bar half of the establishment and listened to a local jam session for a while. “I feel all right as long as I don’t eat or drink any alcohol,” I said, to which both fuego and MaK responded by trying to get me to drink traditional czech medicinal alcoholic beverages.

This morning I am fine. As I told fuego, my stomach just needed to reboot. Onward we go, into the teeth of light rain driven by occasionally fierce wind, searching for that dark, warm haven that such weather caused a people to embrace. Truly this is the weather that gave birth to the pub.

While you’re at it, drop by fuego’s place and wish him a happy birthday!

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