Foggy Landan town, and foggy it was as flights were all delayed/canceled in the big smoke on Saturday, was shittin it as to wether I'd make it or not, but I'm happy to say I did.
I met up with Ciaran, Owen "Paul" Hopkins and a kiwi bloke, got some all you can eat stodgey grease lumps, then hit up slam city.
Cates was there, was nice to catch up and have an aul chin wag.
Watchers
Outsiders
Pubers
Apres pub shenanigans
My casa for the night was to be inTony's (Bray compatriate) house.
He felt like a detour on the stumble home which brought us to a real "Mr Saturday night" local's only Ben Sherman type of pub. I went to the bog and upon my return was informed that we were signed up for karakoe. Prick!
Pre song nerves
This photo sums up my state at the time just after our rendition of Eurythmic's "Sweet dreams are made of these". Multiple octaves were achieved with single words and no-one liked us, good times! As soon as we finished and tried to submit another song we were told "No more songs, no more songs!"
Ding ding, were home.
The next morning Johny Hangover lead us for a brief pre-flight stroll around the Tate. Pretty average spider, ut the tiny life-like people around it were spot on!
Installation nation.
Ghetto hitchcock.
rebel!
?
Until next time! Was stoked on the trip!
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