He was late sixties maybe. Galway accent. Denim jacket. Beard. Kristofferson look. Bonnet open, Toyota, side of the road, hoping something might happen. He'd been there a while. Contemplating the engine, listening to the scream of the traffic on the bypass. I pulled in. Asked him the rhetorical: 'Everything ok?' 'The car just stopped.' 'Stopped?'… Continue reading Nice warm chips.
Went through Mountbellew. Took a left for the bog road. Then I spotted something up ahead. At first I thought it was a bag of turf. Turned out to be a man asleep. He was bald. I know this because the headlights were bouncing bright off his shiny skull. That’s when I knew I was… Continue reading Mountbellew