This was my second trip to Dublin and Id been looking forward to it from the moment it had been booked.

The Ryan Air flight got us into Dublin on time on Thursday 7.35 am!  We arrived at the hotel before 9 am, exhausted from our early rise.  We went off to get some breakfast and when we returned the hotel had our room ready.  Today was going to be a long one it was already 4 ½ hours old.  Much of the morning was spent resting but re-energised (well slightly) we went off to a museum in the afternoon.  On our return we spotted a pub called the Hairy Lemon opposite the hotel (some of the scenes from The Commitments were filmed in here apparently) and this was to become our local for the duration of our visit.

The hotel we were staying at seemed impressive in terms of service and cleanliness and comfort.  However, it was not very green.  Wed left the radiator on.  It wasnt on a timer so remained on during the night.  It was very hot so I got up to turn it off and open the window.  I pushed the net curtain aside to access the window, and suddenly felt something land on my head.  The curtain rail had fallen off.  In the morning, whilst brushing my teeth the plastic part denoting hot/cold fell off the tap.

Friday was the day wed allocated for our rock pilgrimage or to be more precise the Bob Geldof and U2 pilgrimage (and hunt for Bono).  With thanks to TheTopHat Tours Ltd for the advice .  We bought a day ticket for the dart train.  Our first visit was to U2s Windmill Lane recording studios where we took some photos.  No sign of the band, but we werent expecting them.  We arrived at Pearse Street Station and spotted a train, so leapt on it.  It was empty and no-one got on it.  After moving a short distance it stopped, then the driver came through our carriage!  The driver shook his head and said you shouldnt have got on this train.  We must have missed and announcement as the train was at a dead-end.  We had to scramble off the train and across the track to the station luckily not too far away.

TopHat noted we should look to the left as we left the station.  There was the gas works mentioned in Rat Trap, now turned into flats.  The train then took us to Blackrock where we saw Bobs school, Blackrock College, which is still a school.  It looked very impressive.  TopHat then guided us to Blackrock Park, where the Rats had played in their early days.  We found the bandstand which hed referred to.  I tried to imagine what it was like back in the 70s with Rats music blaring out from it.  The stand was now pretty much a ruined, chained off and covered in graffiti.  Just a relic of times gone by.  Just history.  Thirty years ago, hard to believe it.  Looking at it, it might as well have been forever.  The final Geldof stop was the house in which he grew up.  It looked fairly modest for a middle class family who could afford to send their children for an education at the school Id just seen.  But then Bob always said they were middle class with no money.  All the money they did have must have gone on education.  Although I know nothing about the cost of housing in Ireland in the 1950s.

With the Geldof part of the tour complete, we continued onto Dalkey, where Bonos local pub can be found.  It was a long shot going in there for a drink on a Friday lunch time and hoping he might be in there, a very long shot.  Of course, he was nowhere to be seen.  So we got back on the train to go to Bonos house.  Maybe wed catch him there.  I dont even know if he was actually in Ireland this last weekend it was just a hope.  We got up to the house.  The gates are boarded up with wood so no-one can see inside.  It looked as though there was some writing on the wood, so we stepped forward.  There was an electronic clicking sound and the gates opened.  I had visions of Bonos German Shepherd dogs charging out at us and jumped back.  We stood back, hoping that Bono might appear.  It was just staff, they looked across at us and then away.  No sign of Bono at all.  No sign of Ali either.

The day was not complete without a visit to the Clarence Hotel in the evening.  Still there was no sign of Bono or the rest of the band, but we had a drink in the Octagon Bar.  I didnt think it was too expensive at 11 Euros for a large glass of decent wine and a pint of beer.

On Saturday we had arranged to meet Heather, whom Id been in touch with on Myspace, a fellow U2 fan.  We were meeting her at 2.30 pm at our hotel, so decided just to have a wander around OConnell Street and the area.  We headed back to our hotel after getting some lunch.  At 2.20 pm I went to get my mobile phone from bag to check she hadnt left any messages.  It wasnt there.  After the checking the room and turning out all the contents of my handbag I realised it had been stolen.  We made our way downstairs to meet Heather and I used the phone at reception to block my account.  Heather didnt appear.  After about 20 minutes we went off to an internet café to get her number and also Musicmanias (who we had arranged to meet on Sunday).  It was rather fortunate that Heather was just leaving the hotel and hadnt got far.  Shed tried to contact me let me know she was running late, but on her way.  When there was no reply to her text she called my number, by this time it had been blocked and there was just an announcement saying this number is not in service.  Although wed left a message in the hotel at reception, she only knew me by Jules and felt she couldnt ask for me, spotted we werent there and thought wed left because she was late, although confused by the phone call.  We managed to catch her spent the rest of the afternoon at our local.

Saturday evening at the Garda station was an experience in itself.  It seemed like the a refuge centre for local, how shall I put it - characters.  There were 3 women in there, with what seemed no purpose for being there whatsoever.  They werent waiting for anything or anyone and werent under arrest.  We could only guess that there was nowhere else for them to go and they may have felt vulnerable on the streets of Dublin.  One man was just being released from arrest (he appeared drunk or high) and was wandering around asking the rest of the women to undo his belt.  He didnt approach us.  Apparently he wanted to change his trousers before leaving the station.  One of the women was wandering around and couldnt seem to sit still.  She refused to do it.  The police officer (Garda) told him we (all the occupants of the station) were not going to do this for him.  The police officer whispered to us hes one of Dublins finest.  One of the seated women proceeded to undo his belt.  In shock, the officer muttered a few expletives under his breath.  The 3 of us couldnt believe our eyes.  Then one of the seated women turned to the other and asked her the time.  I wondered what the significance of time was to someone who wasnt waiting for anything and had no apparent purpose for being there.

Our last day was spent in the company of Musicmania.  We first headed for OSheas for a coffee (once the Moran Hotel where the Rats had played).  We must have been invisible because 20 minutes later there was no sign of being served.  So we left and found another café.  It was soon lunch time, so we went off to our local again for a liquid lunch.  Musicmania found some Rats tracks on the juke box along with a variety of other good music.  We discussed all things music and got to know some more about each other.

With another early rise on Monday for our flight home, we left relatively early for a shower and to find a restaurant for dinner.

That concludes episode 2, we will return shortly for episode 3.