March 1992. I was fed up with rubbish in England and decided to take one of my trips over to Ireland for a while and headed for Tipperary, where I heard a few mates were parked up on site. The location? The ‘Looney Line’ at the Horse and Jockey on the way to Thurles. I should have guessed by the endearing name of the site what it was going to be like! I arrived in the pissing rain up a country lane which was on the side of a peat bog. Fifteen or so vehicles and bender tents on the side of the road and half crazed site dogs trying to bite chunks out of each other..I was home. Thank God, away from the smack and alcoholism of site life in the UK and a potential new start in my mother’s country. The next morning I woke up under a truck with a Jack Russel chewing my sleeping bag, an empty bottle of Jameson’s by my side and a hangover to die for. Oh well, it must have been a good night.
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