Many thanks to those of you who submitted comments about the direction the continuing saga of the nameless narrator and Agnes should take.
I disembarked the Enterprise train at Connolly Station and could see Agnes beyond the barrier. She looked fabulous, and I was able to linger over my looking because she was distracted by a small child chasing a pigeon. I was travelling light, with only the bare essentials in my backpack: shorts, T-shirts, underwear, flip-flops, iPad and washbag. I had put new condoms and mouthwash in with my usual toiletries. I had read some of Howard Jacobson’s The Act of Love on the train. It seemed appropriate and I like Jacobson’s writing.
She turned and her pleasure at seeing me made me grin. “You look great” I said. She hugged me and I savoured the subtlety of her perfume and the touch of her hair. “Come on, there a tram to Smithfield in a couple of minutes and I know the perfect place for brunch.”
Sure enough, Oscars did an amazing eggs Benedict and the atmosphere was very chilled out. We were relaxing with our second cups of coffee when a striking, tall woman spotted Agnes.
“Agnes, we don’t often see you in this part of town.”
“Oh, hi Joy, I’m just showing this gentleman around. You’re looking well. You must be doing something right!”
“Work darling. It’s all about the work. We open tonight, Chicago, you must come and see it – it may be am dram, but it’s our am dram! I’ll leave two tickets at the door for you and this reprobate.”
With that she left. The eyes of many men (and some women) discreetly followed her departure.
We spent a pleasant afternoon walking along the Royal Canal, stopping off at the occasional bar or cafe to watch the world go by.
That evening we decided to give Chicago a try, and if it disappointed, we agreed that we wouldn’t stay, but try to sneak off quietly. The theatre was in Blackrock. We got the DART in plenty of time, and were able to wander about the small seaside town for an hour or so before the performance.
odespinner 