Subject:          Story time .. enjoy!

We were in Dingle Bay - renowned throughout the World (no, really!) for
having a tame dolphin in residence.  Jacks was, let us say, a "little"
keen to commune with said dolphin, named 'Fungi!' So, we rounded 
the corner into the village, and before I could say "Lets find a pub and
have something to eat (as breakfast was a good 3 hours ago and I'm an
insatiably hungry male)", Jacks had flung open the car door, sights locked-on to the
"Dolphin Trips booked here" hut on the far-side of the quay within but a few
milliseconds of it entering her field of view, (the Terminator would still
be fumbling amongst his bunch of roses for a cunningly concealed automatic
weapon in a similar scenario) and at a speed rivalled by surely only an Olympic
Champion individual 'Luger,' traversed the length of the quay.

By the time I had reached the hut it was all sorted and we could return again to
thoughts of lunch with our 1.30pm departure time safely booked.  Now at this point I'm
going to skip forwards about a day and a half, so sit tight .... nnnnnnnnnngh ... 

Aaaah, right! So we are now at about 6.30am two days and TWO(!) dolphin-viewing-by-boat 
sessions later.  We have gotten up early in order to, wait - for - it, see the dolphin
again!  Now don't get me wrong, I think he's a fine Dolphin and enjoyed both viewing 
occasions - I'm just trying to communicate exactly how much Jacks took a shine to Fungi.

So, one hearty B&B Breakfast later, with scrambled eggs, juice and coffee, [Make
note!] and we were all set to slip into our semi-dry-suits.  Ah, didn't I say? We
weren't going to simply SEE the dolphin this time, this was serious INTERACTION! We are 
talking 'man and dolphin as one' stuff here!  It turned out that for the serious dolphusiast
you can go swimming with him in the (NOT AT ALL COMPLETELY UTTERLY ICEY) waters of the
bay. So, resplendant in our Teletubbie-esque snorkling gear we drove down to the quay.
[Footnote : For all you ex-UKers 'TeleTubbies' is one of THE National topics of conversation
nowadays, second only to the Spice Girls.  It is a Children's TV show with characters
called names like 'Ticksy Wicksy' and 'Po'.]

So, we set sail into Dingle Bay with a dozen other dolphin-spotters, and as I looked
over the side of the boat, my head was full of images of me and Fungi majestically
arcing through the water (we holding his dorsal fin) surrounded by shoals of fish,
the sun glinting of the coralled Ocean floor, with those lovely whistly Dolphin noises
bouncing back at us as we gazed up through the water to the sky above...

[cut to reality] I AM a giant-floating-sea-pudding! I am bobbing helplessly on the
surface of the water, each bob sending it's own icy parcel down my back.
Any preconceptions that I once had, have now been shattered beyond repair. Any
thoughts of diving under the water's surface were abuptly pooped upon by the fact that
my dry-suit is completely bouyant [Did you know dry suits are bouyant??!] - you CANNOT
go under the water with it. The best you can hope for is to dip your head under the
water and wait for it to be dragged back up, giving the appearance of some kind of
bizarre sea-donkey braying very undignifiedly.

I could just about catch sight of Fungi doing his stuff about thirty yards away, but
by the time I managed to flap my way over, he was long gone. And this was the way most
of the next hour and a half were spent - me NOT swimming with Fungi.  I later learnt
that Jacks had had several views of Fungi, including a graceful underwatery one -

'Oh, didn't you see Fungi then Jon?' 
'no.' [Unexpurgated version of conversation available $10.99]

Of course I'm happy for Jacks that She did at least see Fungi, and I don't at all
regret not having seen him, and I don't bear any kind of a grudge at all to Jacks,
and I won't in any way whatsoever always always always regret until the end of time
that I didn't see Fungi.

As luck would have it, however, I did have something to occupy my mind with... 

As the morning went on, I became more and more conscious of the rather generous amount
of orange juice that I had partaken of at breakfast.  In fact, I began to rather
seriously regret any decisions made regarding orange juice and coffee earlier that
morning.  Being utterly encased in a sealed, rubber suit bobbing helplessly in the
middle of a bay isn't the best place to be caught short, but I hung in there and waited.

By the time we got back on the boat things were dire.  I was pacing, I was bending over
with crossed legs, I was a desperate man.  The shore was a distant line, and time was
running out! (All the while I was quietly curious as to when nature would overcome accepted 
social barriers and allow me to just get up and go in the middle of the boat.) The minutes
ticked by, and I was analysing the boat for my best hope of exit when we did finally hit
land, hoping to shave crucial milliseconds off my time in order to avoid disaster.

It was agony! I was bending over, clutching my kidneys and groaning.  Dignity was out
the window, my only thoughts were of the urinal of salvation that beckoned me from the
shore.  But (joy!) the shore did at last grow bigger, and we drew nearer and nearer,
until 3 yards from the shore I made my leap for freedom, much to the astonishment of
the other passengers (although by now they had probably been studying my wierd behaviour
in detail). Dry land! Now it was sprint training with a difference - concentrating all
my effort into not peeing myself I dashed up the beach, peeling the top of my suit off
as I went, until I made it to the gents.  I must say that that was the BEST visit to
the loo I have EVER HAD.