We sat upstairs with the mural of Con staring down at us, his words imprinted on the wall giving me an idea for a blog that isn't this one.
We took pints and shifted seats three times to make room for the band. The loud sneezing man had an impressive, powerful lilt. Finnegan's Wake the high point and I said to Ollie, I said, "we should be paying for the privilege."
Then the Americans came in. Three separate groups of fifteen with cameras snapping and gums displaying, so the band started into the standards of paddywhackery.
We went downstairs when Hal from Houston decided to get his jig on to something Mary Black once covered. The name of it escapes me.
"Too many tourists, lads?"
"Fuckin sure. Guinness and a lager beer, please."