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About Waterford

We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

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Finally, he rolls in, looking like he just woke up from a nap. I’m like, “Dude, you’re driving a car, not a couch!” We hop in the car, and I’m trying to keep it chill. But then, he starts freaking out over the roundabout on Church Hill. I mean, it’s just a circle, right? But to him, it’s like a scene from a horror movie. “What do I do?!” he yells. I’m like, “Just go! It’s not a black hole!”

Snow falls on Wicklow Mountains