Teachers on tour -- the Three Amigos's excellent adventure

Well here I am, it's four in the morning and both Kurt Moobs and Finnegan are snoring so loudly that, although I am exhausted, there's no way I'll drop off any time soon.

As soon as the school emptied of kids, the whole staff headed up to the best hotel in the town.

On with the nose bags and we all proceeded to drink away the year's slog deep into the night.

By the next day, three tired amigos had arrived in the English Lake District, flying into Blackpool, the seaside town which has terrifying rollercoasters looking on to a great beach.

We picked up a hire car for the short drive to our hotel. With the cost of the car and the hotel split three ways, we jumped at the chance to spend a couple of days driving and walking in this huge, unspoilt national park.

For Finn, the teacher of English and geography, this is a great chance to admire the crags, the glaciated valleys and to check out Dove Cottage where the legendary William Wordsworth (surely the most aptly named poet ever) lived. Moobs, the uncultured science and maths boor, wanted to know where we could buy one of Wordsworth's albums. For a moment, I thought he was serious. Not much in the Lake District for a scientist you might think, but a trip to a slate mine high on the crags above Honister Pass cheered him up.

On the other hand, Kurt is obsessed with women and always seems to be able to sense an attractive woman, even if she is a mile behind him, out of sight around a series of dangerous bends.

Over the last day or two, he's managed to sniff out a group from Birmingham and two sisters from Devon. As soon as they come near him, he's all Irish charm with: "Sure howaya ladies! Isn't it a grand day?" I've told him that England already has millions of Irish people living here permanently and that nobody is going to be impressed with his Darby O'Gill routine -- it's excruciating!

Meanwhile, Finn is oblivious as he reads the name of the village on a sign up ahead and launches into a lecture on etymology and the role of place names in the origins of so many surnames in Britain.

This evening we were walking along the edge of Lake Buttermere when, like some sort of fun trackers from the Wild West, we saw a plume of smoke rising up to the sky on the other side.

From high up off the mountain tops, paragliders were launching themselves across the valley. Party! Sure enough, signs soon appeared saying 'Keep out -- private function'. But there was no stopping us.

Finn made for the dance tent, Kurt went for the nearest inebriated blonde and I snaffled some Cumbrian sausages and a couple of pints. Our hosts, the Cumbrian Paragliding Society, certainly made us very welcome.

When we get back, we'll all be correcting Leaving Cert papers -- but 'til then it's all about The Three Amigos on Tour.

E Grade

Irish Independent