In Dublin fair shitty

Walked the seagull crapodrome along the quays, heading for Tara Street* just a few minutes after Luca's early afternoon performance in Jimmy Chung.
In less than 40 minutes, we went in, we filled our plates at the buffet, we ate, we pulled the ice creams for the kids, we puked (well Luca did...), we paid rather hastily and we left.
It looks like Finnzy Bob's supremacy as the PPP (Projectile Puke Prince) is under threat. Luca did a rather impressive job there, while his parents went a few different shades of red and purple in the face.
For anyone eating in Jimmy Chung over the weekend, sorry if the floor is still a bit sticky by the ice cream machine...
The staff were totally unphased and quickly and efficiently disposed of my son's gastric acid and barely digested spring rolls/sweet and (very) sour chicken/banana fritters/vanilla ice cream.
I somehow got the impression that this was not the first bout of wild puking they were tackling. And probably not the last one either.
We'll be back!

As you can see, we have a policy of buying the kids' coats 7 sizes too big so that they can last at least two seasons (this is actually Luca's second winter in his greenish parka and the hands still haven't come out of the sleeves, there is at least another year in it).

Mimi looked cheesed off, because in our haste of leaving the scene of the regurgitation crime, she did not get a chance to finish her banana fritter swimming in vanilla ice cream...

Next time Mimi, next time. I promise!





* (Ta-ra my Landan friends!)