I need little excuse to go to Dublin, one of my all-time favourite cities. The only trouble is that recovery between visits takes so long. I’m neither as young nor as thirsty as I once was. And I’m still haunted by a bizarre trip I made many years ago when I hadn’t even intended to visit the Fair City. I’d been at a family party in Co. Down, drinking Guinness with Bushmills chasers for what seemed like days.
Next thing I knew, I was waking up starkers three days later
It was an accident waiting to happen, of course, and, thanks to too much poitín, the wheels came off spectacularly in the Dufferin Arms, Killyleagh. Next thing I knew, I was waking up starkers three days later on the floor of what turned out to be the honeymoon suite of the Central Hotel, Exchequer Street, Dublin. I was completely alone and have absolutely no idea how I got there nor with whom.
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