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Back then the Irish capital had the air of a provincial

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Back then, the Irish capital had the air of a provincial British city in an advanced stage of decay, rather than the confident, vibrant metropolis it is today. But at least you could get free Guinness at the St James's Gate Brewery after an hour's tour. (Today, it has been turned into a tourist trap, the Storehouse - admission £10).A long day's hitch across a misty landscape ended with a night sleeping in a farmer's car I arrived in Killorglin just as the Puck Fair was beginning. As I nursed a single pint through a long, light evening, I asked when the pubs closed. "October."In 2003, to reach the west of Ireland takes about an hour and, if you time your booking and flight right, costs £20.

No-frills airlines have deprived a generation of the experience of sleeping fitfully by the roadside; good for them. But hitching is still feasible, and the magical countryside is undiminished. On the N22 between Killarney and that tricky turn-off for Kinsale, low, brooding mountains crowd in on a road that dips and swerves south-eastwards.As a teenager with long hair and a Belgian army greatcoat, I was often capable of waiting for seven hours even with loads of traffic going past. Thirty years on, hitching has become easier, though an improbable number of Irish drivers still make a circular motion with their forefinger that signifies, "I'm driving to the end of the village then turning around and heading straight back." And, invariably, they do.When a car stops, it is likely to be faster, more comfortable, and going further.

In a straggle of houses that goes by the name of Crookstown, Jackie O'Callaghan stopped for me. She was driving for a full 20 miles (or should that be 32km?), a veritable odyssey in Irish hitch-hiking. Inconveniently, our prospective paths diverged half a mile down the road. Being a generous and hospitable soul she felt obliged to divert to Kinsale, a good 15 miles away from Cork, her final destination, while regaling me with tales of rural life in 21st-century Ireland.Jackie dropped me outside the Tap Tavern. I am sure I recognised Mary, the landlady, after all these years. But I didn't summon up the nerve to ask how, in 1973, three pints of Murphy's could total exactly 50p.

The fortunes of Kinsale have risen along with the price of stout. Freshly painted primary colours on smart restaurants and bumper-to-bumper BMWs signify that this fishing port has become a middle-class holiday haven.The signpost (above) pointing the way home has not changed in 30 years. In 1973, it took me three days to hitch back to Crawley from this point. In 2003, a few minutes after I left the Tap Tavern, a car stopped. Like the lift I took from the same spot 30 years earlier, it was going only as far as Cork airport Then, as now, I jumped out and thanked the driver. But this time I hopped on a plane that took me to London for only slightly more than the weekly agricultural wage in the summer of '73.Ferries between Fishguard and Rosslare are now operated by Stena Line (08705 70 70 70, ). Ryanair (0871 246 0000, ) links London Stansted with Kerry and Cork.

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