Oh beating heart be still! At last a man taller than my son with hair in all the places God meant it to be. Even Pope John Paul II hung on long enough for the date to pass without him needing to go into National mourning.

He was there, by the spire, tall, magnificent and Throbbie!! I'd spotted him from the top of the Dublin Tour bus - that was a bit of a disappointment - all she had to say about the GPO was that they had a very nice Stamp Collection, no mention of the 1916 Rising or Michael Collins or the bullet holes still visible in the edifice! - and then he was there, Throbbie!! My Throbbie - the one from the pictures and the chats and the phone calls.

I can't tell you too much about the day - we walked, we chatted, we ate, we did a gallery and a few parks and a bar and generally had a good craic. We had the Best day, relaxed and comfortable ( I'd chosen the sensible pants knowing that he'd not want in them even if they were the gossamer string contraption I'd optimistically packed a couple of days before). And then he was gone not before leaving a very big impression on me. Not sure if I'll see him again but I really hope to and I won't forget the day in a hurry.

I did the right thing and went to the rugby tournament the next day - it was good and the boys played well.

I came away with a war wound - handy hint - don't try and audition for Riverdance in the middle of the road when you've drunk your own body weight in Guinness.

Cead Mile Failte, Throbbie xxxxxx