I originally posted this about two years ago but was reminded of it when I saw English Mums request to write about six bizarre occurances in ones life, “the wierder the better”. I was only able to think of four.

Then I remembered this incident which follows but thought it a bit huge for a comment box.
I decided to give it a second airing instead.
I think it deserves it.

Sile and I on the Honda 175 on our honeymoon.

Sile and I got married in 1973, around the time they were just beginning to realise that there might be a relationship between cigarette smoking and cancer and that there also could be a connection between drunkenness and car accidents.
At that time we had a flat in Ailesbury Park, at the very end of Ailesbury road, that road where, just because it was the second dearest in Irish Monopoly, all the Ambassadors had their residences. To get from my place of work, Snaffles on Leeson Street, to our flat I had to drive down Ailesbury road, usually at about midnight.
Because of the ambassadorial residences the road was enormously over populated with bored members of the Garda Siochana.
As I was driving a motor bike, a Honda 175, and therefore suspect, they used to frequently relieve their boredom by stopping me and asking me the usual series of inane questions trying to discover if I was either drunk or a terrorist.
If I had managed to be bought a drink in work I took to taking another route home.
It happened that about a week before the wedding Sile and I decided to make a concession towards tradition by having a drinking session with our friends.
This time was at the height of the women’s liberation movement so to be all emancipated (not to mention self righteous) we decided that rather than give the usual Stag and Hen parties we would hold a combined Cock and Doe (Groan!) party in the Waterloo House at the end of Waterloo Road.
I think it was probably a good night.
With Sile on the back of the bike we headed back to the flat.
I was sufficiently cute to realise that it would not be a good idea to go down Ailesbury Road so I put together a devious itinerary home which I imagined would avoid us having any embarrassing meetings with the Guards.
I failed.
As we came out of Herbert park en route to Ailesbury Park I realised that the American Embassy was directly and unavoidably in front of us.
Furthermore, possibly due to a protest over the Vietnam war, the Embassy was crawling with the men in blue.
I realised immediately that the most important thing was that I keep my head and then we would be fine.
“We’ll be alright Sile” I said with inebriated logic, “so long as I drive really slowly”
I began to crawl past the embassy.
The inevitable occurred.
The speed we were travelling lacked sufficient momentum to maintain our perpendicular position so, slowly and ignominiously, just outside the embassy, we fell over.
We were surrounded immediately by crowds of bored and caring guards, most of them obviously from either Cork or Kerry.
With cries of “Oh you poor unfortunates,God love ye, are ye OK?” and even
“Ups a daisy now” they lifted us both back on the bike and pushed us off in the direction home.

I think it was the following morning before I realised what a lucky escape we had had.