Hmm..where did I leave off? Oh yes, it was raining and my lips were rubbery. (Damn that Westlife poster!)
Well after visiting the Giant’s Causeway and failing to find the Blarney Stone I sank into a severe depression until, by chance, I met a scantily dressed young man upon a slippery sidewalk who said to me in dark, mysterious tones;
“Mistress Turley, you must climb these mountainous steps and fight your way past the young Guardians until you reach a dark tunnel of hideous proportions. You must conquer your fears and enter it. You will be plunged into darkness and horror and you will see your life flash before you. But at the journey’s end you will find a mystical pool where The Blarney Stone lies bathed in a wondrous green light!”
Following his advice, I trudged wearily up numerous flights of wet, slimy steps which had been smoothed by the passage of time. On my journey I encountered the scathing looks of pimply youths who nudged and winked and poured scorn upon me; what was a middle aged woman doing here amongst The Guardians? I met them with my steely stare! When they nudged me, I pushed back. When they jabbed; I pinched them. Mrs T, Housewife Extraordinaire, is not afraid to meet her fears!
(Unless it’s a moth when I am overcome by sheer horror and can run faster than an Olympic athlete. Hmm – better make that a British Olympic athlete – I know my limitations.)
At last I came to the tunnel entrance. It was small and claustrophobic; an eerie red light flashed in it’s depths. I sat cautiously down and then, believing my search may soon be over, I propelled myself (using the full force of my bottom which is quite considerable) at a tremendous speed down the tunnel. I screamed and screamed….
Ahhhhhhhhh……Ahhhhhhhhhhhh…………HEEEEEEEELP!!!!!!!
My breath was torn from my body as it flew at speeds of over 40mph through winding passages covered with cold dripping water like ancient tombs of the dead until finally I could see daylight… I emerged breathless and battered, dizzy and dazed, into a cascade of water where I whirled around and around until, at last, I plunged into a deep emerald pool.
But there was no Blarney Stone to be found! I could see nothing; I searched and searched; my hands reached out exploring the cool depths. But there was nothing… all I could hear was the wicked, evil laughter of a distant Guardian; I had been tricked!
I jumped from the pool liked a delicate nimble frog. (Well…almost.) Where was that Guardian? I would poke him with my chopsticks, batter him with my rolling pin and then subject him to a week’s worth of my cooking. A liar must be punished and punished severely! But alas, he was not to be found!
I looked around me and this is what I saw;
I had been fooled! My quest for The Blarney Stone would have to continue….
Copyright Jane Turley 2008
Ps – It was the blue tunnel; the green one was for the feint-hearted!
9 responses
hahaha! You had me going. I was just glad that I didn’t have to come along with you! I become quite aggressive in the throes of claustrophobia. You are oh so brave, Jane!
At my age, I’m not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity Tamera! (But going on my track record even I would have to say it was probably stupidity….)
Anyhow, the saving grace was that my bottom didn’t get wedged half way down….now that would have been reaaally embarrasing!
And whilst you entered the tunnel in Ireland, you’ve exited in Paris outside the George Pompidou centre. I’d recognise those pipes anywhere.
PB
I regret to say I have never been to the Pompidou centre or indeed France – what a conservative (with a small “c”)life I have led! I would like to go to abroad and indeed recently applied for a passport. Unfortunately, the Home Office said I was too much of a liability.
(They’re right… which makes a change for a government department.)
I have an image of you in an indiana jones olympic outfit with a Union Jack flag on it and a bar of galaxy chocolate in one hand, sitting at the entrance of the flume wondering the best way to keep the chocolate dry. Upon realising the best way to keep it dry is to scoff it down, you munch it in one go, and make “weeeeeeeeeeeee” noises as you steam down the tunnel.
I wont lie to you…it’s an image I need to remove from my tiny brain.
Sounds (and looks) like a wonderful adventure ride, Mrs. T!
Ireland seems so fantastic. I must visit someday.
You know Master Sy… that was a pretty accurate description – only the bathing suit was a hand knitted one with the Union Jack emblazoned on my bottom. The trouble with these woolly ones is that tend to get baggy and a thread caught on a passing plastic rivet so by the time I got to the bottom (no pun intended) I was stitchless! The pool suddenly dseserted as cries of “Help,help there’s a killer whale!”, “Oh my God, there’s an enormous beast in the pool!!” and I was left all by myself to wallow in pleasure…..
Ok, none of that was true… (Except the whale bit obviously.)
Hello Mewie! Yes the ride was fun; not that in anyway is Mrs T a thrill seeker.(cough, cough) However, I’m a little disappointed by the size of the repair bill.
Ireland is very much like England; green grass and rolling hills. With the exception of historic sites the architecture is pretty ordinary; I guess this is because of the lack of investment over the centuaries with all the troubles. There is obviously plenty of investment going on now with new roads and houses being developed all over the place. It seems to be done well though – apparently it takes 2-3 years to get planning permisssion!
We stayed in Northern Ireland and felt very welcomed there. It seemed strange to travel through and visit some of the places I have associated through my youth with terrorism and murder like Belfast and Enniskillen. Although there are still many reminders of the past it is good, that at last, this beautiful country is at peace.
Hi Onedia,
So good to see you back! I know it’s very difficult trying to juggle all the things we want to do with our lives so I won’t be offended if you ever take an extended leave of absence! (And let’s face it everyone needs to take a break from my humour now and then!)
Nothing published yet, just my usual wacky football reports and the sport stuff for the local newspaper. I must buckle down; I am too easily distracted!
Mrs T – oh you brave lady , you do us proud , you do !
Seriously though ,is Ireland trouble fee now ?