Car ferries. Love them. Feels like an adventure every time you drive up the ramp and get swallowed in the sea-bound car park. Then you check into the executive lounge and order a breakfast you don't really want and definitely don't need. The boys are on the road again, four of us determined to refloat the Irish economy and play astoundingly bad golf between food and drink.
The team is: your correspondent here, fresh faced triathlete and bon viveur; team captain Big Willy Macfarlane still smarting from defeat in the warm-up at Bull Bay; John 'Boy' Brain will be flying in tonight trailing his usual chaos; Peter Johnson M.A. (Oxon) will drive over from Cork to lend a little class to proceedings. Wine will be taken, characters will be assassinated and a bloody good time will be had by all. I can tell you're jealous.
Willy and I have now finished the excellent Stena breakfast. Bring on the pudding. Free biscuits. Complimentary coffee etc. Today the Overgraduate is a happy bunny.
Big W MacF never recovered from Bull Bay. The rest of us never got over the previous evening. As always the company and conversation were much better than the golf or the weather for that matter.
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