Wednesday, 17 March 2010

No Paddy on St Patricks Day

I met old, yes old, Paddy outside Sainsbury's and we went to Quinn's for an Irish pint (although I had a Czech bottle)

"Really, can't you remember me?" he said.

"No, sorry, I was with friends that night, not looking for anyone or anything. I don't know even why I'd give you my number. Are you sure we were outside?"

"Yes, I told you I'd remember it and well, women always give the wrong number and I thought you would have done."

The penny then dropped for me. I didn't have thick beer goggles on that night outside the Jam House but I did have thick assumption layers on. He'd said he'd remember my number and well, I didn't believe him so gave it.

My landline, not my mobile. He's been calling me during the day. I've been in every time.

He was a friendly guy, very honest. We chatted about travelling mostly. He cut a lonesome figure though. My friend is Nico Teen, his is Al Cohol.

A match made in heaven you might think.

I did fancy another beer but I didn't fancy him so I came home.

What can I say? Not the craic I hoped it would be? boom boom...

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