Healthy censorship

Hear me out, please.
There is such a thing as healthy censorship.
Well there is for me anyway. For my health.
My mental health.

See, the trip from Dun Laoghaire to Belmullet is only 300 little kilometers.
An afternoon spin down to the countryside for you highway easy riders, autoroute cruisers or other autobhan speedsters.
Well, here, a 300 km cross country odyssey is a grueling endurance challenge.

No matter what type of hypercharged V8 twin turbo monster you own, you will not make it under 4.5 hours.
Because Ireland has a lethal combination of windy roads, moxies who have yet to discover that there is a whole exciting range of gears above the second (their default mode, at 9,000 rpm and the engine of the Micro screaming louder than a Saab*), and moxies-haters who will follow the granny in the Micra for 28 miles like the other 63 unfortunate bollixes in a procession and then freak the lid and overtake on the top of a hill.

Any trip "down" to Nana is a bit of an adventure.
And sometime nerves are a little bit frayed.

Today, though, we were off to a good start.
Lady D.I. had packed the bags the night before, the kids woke up suitably early (Finnzy-Bob was the first up at 6.20 am asking when we were off to Nana's - we told him to go back to bed in no uncertain terms but only bought an extra 30 minutes of a disrupted sleep in the process).

There were hardly any fights while the kids were dressed, the Nintendo DSesses rounded up, the chargers for 7 different types of electronic devices found and packed, the sandwiches made and the family-size flask of tea brewed.

Then I spotted a little hand reaching for the forbidden DVD and surreptitiously attempting to insert into the travel DVD player.

And I lost it.
No shaggin way.
Over my dead body.
I would not drive as far as Naas with Alvin and the Shaggin Chipmunks playing at the back.

I gave them the choice between forgetting the DVD behind.

Or going to Nana's on the train, as unaccompanied minors.

* Saab gripen on takeoff