Our wake-up call came through at 5.00 AM and we were all in the foyer just after 6.00 AM. We had a coffee after we'd loaded the van and we were on the road by 6.25 AM.

For some reason no one had worked out how to get out of Dublin and neither Mal nor Dave could figure out the map. We must have stopped and asked half a dozen people directions and we were sent in as many different directions.

It was about fifty minutes later that we eventually paid a taxi to lead the way out of town. Now this was a problem having wasted so much time because we had to catch the ferry to England at 9.00AM. The next one after that wasn't leaving until 9.00PM. This meant Mal had to drive very fast. In fact it was too fast.

We were all feeling nervous about it, looking around at each other. I decided to close my eyes and fitfully dozed for about an hour. At one point I opened my eyes just in time to see a signpost for a town flash by. The town was called Seankil . Not a good sign. It crossed my mind that I was fortunate to be near the back of the bus just in case anything happened.

At about 8.45 AM it did. The van hit a patch of "black ice" as we turned a corner and the van snaked and skidded, spun around, ran up the gutter and smashed into an old stone wall. Incredibly, no one was hurt but we were pretty shaken up.

Wendy narrowly missed being hit on the head by a full bottle of Dom Perignon that had been stored in the rack above. She and I had had window seats and we saw that wall coming at us. The van was written off and we slowly piled out, dazed and confused.

We all had our INXS tour jackets on under our other coats and they had grey hoods. So there were eight of us in our druid's hoods wandering around this little Irish town in the early morning mist, trying to work out what the hell happened.

We knocked on the door of the local tavern. They opened up and took us in and gave us coffee and toast. We hung about coming out of shock and talking possible plans of action. It took five hours before the bus to Dublin came so we got to know the town of Camolin pretty well.

Word got out that the strangers in town were hole up in the "Steak-house Tavern", and we had various characters bidding to tow the bus to Rosslare where the ferry leaves from. We had little kids asking for autographs in the cutest Irish accents.

In Australia we say "That's great!". In Scotland they say , "That's brilliant!" and here it would appear they say, "That's grand!" Well anyway, the people of Camolin were certainly a grand bunch.

We met Jim Somers, the guy who runs the town, and he informed us that our bus ran off the road opposite an ancient two-story stone house that has been abandoned for a hundred years and the locals swear it's haunted. We all looked at each other and it didn't sound as far fetched as it does now. I wrote a postcard to my sister Dawn.

At 2.00 PM the bus finally arrived and we climbed on for the three hour journey back to Dublin and although we drove through beautiful Irish countryside, it was hard to appreciate in our present state. It didn't help that the bus was packed. It was dark by the time we got to the bus depot and there was a half hour wait in the cold before another bus took us to Dublin Airport.

We had something to eat at the airport then left for Heathrow. I had a window seat and it was incredible to see the lights below. It was like looking at a map of Wales and the south of England as it was so well defined, even at night. In the back of my mind I'd been worried about getting back into England with out a passport but it was OK.

I called Jude from the airport regarding my birth certificate but she sounded upset. She said she'd had a heavy night at Neil Wright's the night before. I said I'd call her again when I get back to the hotel. We had to wait another half hour or so before the (full-size) bus that M.M.A. had sent to pick us up arrived. Mal was the only one who didn't come back. He stayed with the ill-fated mini bus.

We got back to The Park International after 9.00 PM and I made phone calls to our people here to see what had happened about my passport. Paul Craig was the only one I could reach and he told me all of our flights had been moved to the 21st. but he might have to put mine back if my passport business can't be resolved.

I wanted out. I called Jude and she went down to the storage space and rang back to say she couldn't find the filing cabinet much less the birth certificate inside it. She still sounded upset. I suggested that maybe Mark O'Connor or Robbie James could help her move the heavy furniture down there to get a better look.

I waited around on tenterhooks for the next couple of hours. It was way past midnight and John had gone to bed. I did a time/event chart at the back of my diary of this day to try and stay sane.

It must have been around 4.00 AM when Jude rang back to say her and Mark had pulled the place apart and still couldn't find the certificate. She sounded a lot better but I felt shattered. I had a brief word to Mark and went to bed thinking about how I'd nearly died in Ireland and now I was stranded in England.

As I was dozing off, Jude rang back to see if she should call my mum regards getting a new birth certificate. The last thing I wanted to do was worry Mum but I was so exhausted at this stage I said yes and went to sleep.

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