A midweek weekend.
Hills and mist and Leffe and "Spaten Munchen Boy!" and my first time eating halibut.
Twelve-year-old single malt Bushmills.
A rocking chair.
Steak cooked as per maternal instructions.
Rain and more hills.
Mussels in breadcrumbs.
Twitching from internet absence. Football news on the mobile phone.
Two pints of stout as it should taste.
Clonakilty black pudding.
Rashers and a wall decorated in menus.
A yacht in the distance, probably not Abramovich.
A screaming baby left alone in the back of a car - this did not stand.
Two hours spent reading 'Easy Riders, Raging Bulls.' William Friedkin is a bollox.
The Crazy Horse Saloon.