|Church by the River Corrib||I get up in the morning to say goodbye to Becca and Kegan, who hurry off in a flurry of backpacks to Shannon Airport. I wander around the River Corrib in Galway for a bit and then head for a beautiful bookshop, where I spend a couple of hours debating between titles of playwrights and authors whose work I know I can't find in London.|
I make considerable headway on my stack of purchases on the way to Dublin. Although I've got the rest of the afternoon and the evening in the city, I'd honestly rather go home now. I'm exhausted and homesick. I miss my boyfriend. The person I tried to get in touch with here isn't able to come out to meet me.
I go to the boxty house in Temple Bar for some stew and a pint of Murphy's. I eat slowly. I always eat slowly, but right now I'm sloth-like because I've got my nose buried in Brian Friel's Philadelphia, Here I Come! When I order my pint, the waiter hesitates, looking speculatively at me. I'm almost positive he nearly carded me. I was carded in Letterkenny at the music festival. The bouncer was pretty embarrassed when he found out how old I am. In some ways it's flattering to be mistaken as underage, but when the drinking age is 18 or 19, it just makes me think I look under-confident or vulnerable or both, which worries me.
I'm so tired that after sitting on a bench by the Liffey to watch the sunset, I call it a night and go to the dorm room to read until I fall asleep.
I just want to go home.