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Anthony invited everyone to party in his flat in Talbot Street (Elodie lived there before) on Saturday. Everyone was supposed to wear something green, because of Paddy’s Day. I just have one green piece of clothing: a cap. Carmen just had a scarf. In order to increase the proportion of green, we decided to buy two green cans of pringles: one with good ol‘ sour cream, the other one lime-chilli flavour. Well, actually we bought them, because we were hungry and they were dirt-cheap… anyhow, other guests made a bigger effort.

The atmosphere was a bit strange (as so often people just talked in French) and I did not feel well due to a really sore throat. Hence, Berta, Isa, Carmen and I left quite early.

Instead of going home directly, we decided to go to the Fibber Magees, where Chris and Isma were supposed to arrive soon. We had a nice chat about some weird topics until we became witnesses of a situation that could have come straight from a movie scene: there was some argue between a man and a woman in the middle of the room. Apparently, the man had said something offending or had touched her. In turn, the woman decided to get rough. She took her pint glass and smashed it on the lad’s forehead. Bam! Thousands bits and pieces of broken glass flew through the room and the guy’s face was all covered in blood. It felt almost surreal. Of course, he wanted to take revenge, but people quickly separated them.

Phew! We looked at each other and were just shocked. Usually, it’s really nice and peaceful there.

Saturday the boys asked me to go to Shelbourne Park, a greyhound race stadium, with them in order to become millionaires. Sure! So I met them in the city centre and we went there together. It was a really good idea: for a fiver you can watch (and bet on) eleven live races. None of us had any clue whatsoever and we just decided based on the odds and the dogs‘ recent average times. We always betted between two and four Euro on either place or win and shared the risk. Sometimes we really identified the underdog winner, often „our“ dog failed miserably. However, Kiwi turned out to have just the right touch.

Afterwards we met the girls in Fibber Magees in order to celebrate our millions moderate losses of approximately four Euro and sixty cents per capita. Great fun and definitely worth it.