With that, Pat Malloy from Tallaght walked approximately five paces and disappeared through the door of a semi-derelict public house that Cormac suspected stole his life away a long time ago. Harry passed Cormac a pack of handkerchiefs.

‘Well, south of the Liffey it is, then!’

They eventually found their way to the hotel, but not before another couple of surreal encounters with the good people of Dublin. Much to Harry’s amusement, Cormac, who had gotten out of the car, was in the process of receiving detailed directions from a young man he had described as ‘looking like a very sensible young fella,’ when the man in question suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

‘Are you in a car?’

After Cormac had pointed towards where the others sat, the man simply scratched his head.

‘Ah, now, I wish you had told me that before I started, because I could only direct you if you were walking, you see! I don’t drive in the city centre myself, it’s a fecking nightmare!’

One final encounter, between a confused deaf man and an irate Harry, convinced them they should pay for a taxi and follow behind. Much to Harry’s chagrin, it was obvious to them all they had driven within touching distance of the hotel on at least four occasions.

Harry booked two twin rooms after it was established that the girls, despite having only met the day before, were more than happy to share. They parted in reception, with the intention to meet in the cosy-looking hotel bar. It was not a plan Cormac was universally content with. The thought of a hot bath and climbing into bed appeared a better idea entirely and was overridden only by the pleas of Annie and the pressing need to take some calories on board after the excesses of last night and the inability to retain the contents of his stomach today.

The shower was hot and healing, so much so he only thought about getting out when Harry threatened to evacuate his bowels while chatting beside him. A fresh shirt and ten minutes later, Cormac felt the best he had since returning to Ireland. He reminded himself it had all been self-inflicted and he would have nothing more than a glass of water with his dinner and furthermore at the most reasonable time he could, he would make his excuses and he would be tucked up in bed while the others continued to abuse their bodies. First thing in the morning he would be out jogging the streets of Dublin. Cormac loved to run. The only days he didn’t do so were those, like today, when his hangover dictated he would rather do anything else but run. It struck him as another very good reason why he should abstain from alcohol.

‘Are we ready for a big night in Dublin, my friend? I was thinking we could lose the girls, get ourselves into Temple Bar, skip eating, partake in nine or ten pints of Dublin’s finest, and then a quick ‘Abrakababra’ on the way home. What do you say, eh?’