Thursday August 1 cont.
Stopped at Galway for lunch. We stopped at what’s called the Latin Quarter, and there were buskers, souvenirs and the obligatory selection of traditional Irish pubs.
We were there at a busy time. The races were on today, and apparently they’re quite popular hereabouts. All of the pretty girls in Galway (and there were a lot of them), were parading past, on their way to where the bus would take them to the races. Stunningly turned out, clearly they’d had everything washed and waxed, and off they teetered in their best size-too-small Lycra minidresses. If they’re anything like the girls back home on race day, before dark they will have vomited in a rubbish bin (the netball players with good aim), peed in the gutter, and will be walking barefooted with a spiked high hell shoe in one hand, and no clue where they left the other one.
Here’s one of last year’s little stars, who has no memory of what happened on race day.
Stopped at Galway for lunch. We stopped at what’s called the Latin Quarter, and there were buskers, souvenirs and the obligatory selection of traditional Irish pubs.
We were there at a busy time. The races were on today, and apparently they’re quite popular hereabouts. All of the pretty girls in Galway (and there were a lot of them), were parading past, on their way to where the bus would take them to the races. Stunningly turned out, clearly they’d had everything washed and waxed, and off they teetered in their best size-too-small Lycra minidresses. If they’re anything like the girls back home on race day, before dark they will have vomited in a rubbish bin (the netball players with good aim), peed in the gutter, and will be walking barefooted with a spiked high hell shoe in one hand, and no clue where they left the other one.
Here’s one of last year’s little stars, who has no memory of what happened on race day.
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