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Friday, April 03, 2009

One on the house

It's 2am on a Sunday morning, and we've been wandering around a pitch black neighbourhood in a north Dublin suburb for 20 minutes, carrier bags in hand. My friend is on the phone getting fuzzy directions. "

Right, so it's left, then the second right, then straight ... wait, say that again," he shouts.

Two other friends hop from one foot to the other to keep warm, while I feel on the verge of reverting back to my four-year-old self, tugging on my mother's coat, whining: 'I wanna go-a home-a'.

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