I was asking too many questions and I was relieved when Jenny changed the subject. She wanted to know how I knew Austin and I felt a slight pleasure telling her that he was an old college friend. I didn’t actually imply that I was an artist myself, but I didn’t give the impression, either, that I wasn’t. I told her that I painted a bit when I got the chance and that I had a lot of other stuff going on, like being a barman at the Crown. I think I tried to make the place sound actually regal. I mentioned that I was currently looking for an editing job and I made my quest sound interesting. I had no problem throwing in the odd artistic anecdote, I was well read after all, and I secretly enjoyed supplying cultural references and Jenny, I sensed, might appreciate that.

It wasn’t the time to start my rant about how unsuccessful I’d been with my artistic endeavour. Instead, I set about ensuring that we had plenty of glasses of red wine. I needed to get drunk, not badly drunk but enough. As the opening was drawing to an end, there was talk about moving on to another bar. I didn’t give it too much heed because I wasn’t sure if I was officially included in the invitation, and I was just about to make my excuses and leave when Jenny said that there was a group of them heading on to Hogans and she asked me if I wanted to go.

Try and stop me, I said and I kissed her gently on her cheek.

We went en masse down towards Lower George’s Street and there was a lot of carry-on, artists spouting a whole load of drunken shite. I had to jostle for Jenny’s attention on the way. It wasn’t ideal but I put up with it. Everyone was smoking spliff and I felt that I had to join in, even though smoking it always made me puke, but I didn’t let on.