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.
We got there around nine. Tullamore Hotel.There was a band starting in a while, Rualie Buaile they were called. "Supposed to be mighty." Few people in. There was stools in the corner. Took them. Another couple landed. Him with tattoos and an orange T-shirt and a pint of lager. Her with a red wine, black… Continue reading Ruaile Buaile in Tullamore