We're off to Ireland for a week-long poetry workshop taught by my sister and her colleague, Jack McGuigan.

The trip to London was one of physical challenges. I bruised a toe while making the bed before we left. On the plane, the people sitting behind me dropped their bag on my head instead of putting it into the bin. Later in the flight, the drunken woman in front of me tipped her ice into my shoe, then, not realising that the stuff under her seat was not hers, she tried it on.

Once we arrived in London, we had a better time. Our friends Moritz and Franziska hosted us for the night. We had a wonderful paella. Their daughter loved her omiyage--a brand new Zou, of course--and may have loved Zoupi even more. I had to hide him before we left the next morning.

Our flight to Cork was uneventful but after we arrived, we learned that the bus to Anam Cara was overbooked--we didn't have a seat. A flurry of questions and phone calls had us on a bus to Glengariff (where's that!?) and Jenn & Jack drove out to pick us up at "the pub down the road from where the bus drops you--it has a man's name Johhny D's, maybe?" It was John Barry's and we were very grateful to have a pint after the long trip!