Friday Night
A bit of a blur. Was sitting in a bar reading a thriller by a writer who I once knew (and worked with) as a playwright, when I was accosted by a man who noticed the book and claimed also to know the author.
One thing - or rather one drink - led pretty swiftly to another and I was soon introduced to a cast of some of Galway's thirstiest people...
Some excellent and mostly unprintable stories - chiefly from a man who claimed to have spent the bulk of his thirties playing bodhran in Riverdance, had a mate who’d had both arms bitten off by a tiger, and once busked his way home from Zurich for a bet...
At about midnight the first man and I were discussing M. Sarkozy's impending - and keenly anticipated - visit, in the street, when our conversation was gate-crashed by a beautiful woman in a chip shop queue. A new discussion evolved, and I abandoned my friend to the tender mercies of this lovely girl, and headed gratefully for my bed.
Everyone knows everyone else here. They also knew your father, your mother and the people who used to live in your house. So you have to be very, very careful what you say. And who you say it to…
Looking forward to some sun tomorrow, and a trip to the seaside.
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