OVER THE IRISH SEA

I'm on the plane home. The setting sun twinkles through the lines of cloud and the aeroplane wing flashes boldly at the oncoming darkness. Time to reflect.

It has been a splendid trip by all measures. After the party rolled on last night, this morning I woke up with the sun creeping through the thick curtains, and I was taken by a sudden sense of hope and optimism.

The sky was cloudlessly blue. As I packed for the journey home, I started thinking about how I was feeling. Curious optimism sums it up, I reckon: that sense of hopefulness in the face of anything, that's at the heart of what it means to be Irish. Whether they long for freedom from oppression and tyranny, whether they sail West for a life in the new world, or whether they simply put an arm around each other to commiserate the loss of a football match, it flows as deep as the water of the Liffey itself. And weirdly, it seemed to be rubbing off on me today.

Before I came, lots of people asked me what I would be doing here. The majority suggested I should visit the Guinness Storehouse. I told the majority that I think Guinness tastes like shoe-polish and I didn't really want to wander around a factory for half a day of my holiday. It may as well be Brasso or Mr Muscle, I said; fine, but not really the kind of thing you need a sample of at the end of the tour.

However, one thing I did want to do, was to visit the old library in Trinity College and see the Book of Kells. The Book of Kells is a thousand-year-old manuscript (800 AD): the four gospels, exquisitely decorated and scribed by medieval monks. It's possibly Ireland's greatest medieval artefact and any Dublin guidebook will certainly recommend a visit. I really did want to go.

I was disappointed on Saturday. The queue was about a quarter of a mile long, so I hummed to myself and went off to do other things. Then I popped in to the college grounds on Sunday. The entrance to the library is behind the main courtyard.

Same story, a long, snaking queue. I didn't mention it yesterday because I had already resigned myself to not getting in at all this weekend.

So this morning, I was heavy-hearted to see the Trinity College courtyard packed with thousands of people. It turned out to be Freshers' Fair - a chance for all the new students to sign up to whichever societies they could meet attractive people in. I mingled my way through the sea of young people, trying to remember if I'd done something similar at Bath University all those years ago, and I turned the corner, expecting to see another leviathan queue of American, Japanese and German t.... and there was nobody there!

I reckon that was some sort of miracle.

So, I went in, paid my 13 euros and wandered straight into the exhibit! It was amazing! I couldn't take any photos (for obvious reasons) but to be face-to-face with something that old, and that sumptuously beautiful, was every bit the experience I had hoped it would be.

Then there's the long room of the library. You might have seen it as a backdrop in one of Microsoft's display themes. And it is as grand as it looks. Plus, when you walk in, the smell of a million old books does all sorts of things to you. I had shivers down my spine and an uncontrollable smile. I felt enormously blessed to be there, and that curious optimism I had felt at the start of the day, nearly had me dancing through the sunlit streets.

A city of two halves, I had said. Certainly. Almost a trip of two halves too; not a drop of rain today over the fair cobbled streets and walkways. And it's all so much nicer when the sun shines.

I did a walking tour this afternoon, learning ever more detail about the bullet holes in the GPO and in the statue of Daniel O'Connell. Then, as the warm afternoon sun cast long shadows over the tramlines, I caught the 747 bus that brought me back to the airport, on a journey that led me here, to seat 20A on flight FR118.

At the end of Cardiff, I remember asking myself whether I would go back. Cardiff had seemed young and confused, and I had had an ear infection. I voted no, not yet, to the Welsh capital. And certainly not on my own. It's a good question though. Would I go back?

Edinburgh, yes in a heartbeat, there's so much more to see. London and Belfast I'll let you know about, but Dublin, absolutely. It does have that hopeful feel about it, and I really love that.

I really like the idea of going home, back to England, with a quiet sense of curious optimism, all the way from over the Irish Sea.

That and a box of whiskey-fudge.