Behold.. the most perfect pint in the history of pints.. poured at Mulligans (where my grandparents used to drink). This is where you get the best pint in Dublin. And if it’s the best pint in Dublin then it has to be the best pint in the world. So there you go.
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The first night in Dublin (only an hour after arriving actually) I got the fish and chips I had been waiting eleven months for. Salty, vinegary, greasy perfection. That was followed by a few pints down at the local where The Husband felt it necessary to liberate a Guinness glass (or two…) to pack away in the suitcase.
And besides all the contraband, I came back from Dublin with a nasty little cold. I guess all this sunny south of France living has made me too delicate for the damp Dublin weather. That, and it didn’t help that I found myself halfway into town one day and realized that I had completely forgotten my coat… in Dublin… in November. What to do but pop into Penneys for what is now my new favorite scarf (it’s a snood really). Blue and camel striped and I love it (and P.S…. how fun is the word, snood? Love it. I think I’m going to say it all day… snood, snood, snood).
D I G R E S S I O N
But The Husband and Gatz did manage to stay out of the pubs long enough for a little sightseeing like so…
And do you want to know the best way to recover from a 3a.m. Temple Bar bedtime? Pints down the local on Sunday where I got to have what was probably my best pub experience ever… Downton Abbey was being shown instead of some lame football (soccer) match that I don’t care about. Downton Abbey! In the pub! On the telly! Clearly the only appropriate way to watch Dame Maggie Smith in all of her Countessy glory is with pints and packs of bacon fries.
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