We went where fries are chips and chips are crisps.
Where Scarves, High tops and cigarettes are hip.
Where bicycle messengers cheat death between the bumpers of bright red double decker busses and black cabs.
Where waves of people with cameras around their necks swerved, flowed and became lost in the round about roads and dark alley ways.
Where self important Versace style sashays and admires itself in store front mirrors.
Where Guinness tastes like it is supposed to.
Where bag pipe music, chain saw juggling and flame swallowing does not distract you from the old town history towering above.
I wish I could say "It is good to be home" but I would much rather go back.