Whelans

Whelan's rocks. It's a pub on Wexford Street which is a sort of shabby-chic end of town, a funny mix of fancy grocery stores and discount stores and nice looking restaurants (which I can't afford) and greasy spoons. Saoirse turned me on to it. It LOOKS like an ordinary enough pub, kinda scruffy, battered wooden floorboards and all the rest of it, and it FEELS like an ordinary pub if you go there early in the evening.

What I've found out is that if it's on in Whelan's, it's generally very good, so if you perk up in the evening, find 2o euros down the back of the sofa and want to go out, Whelan's is generally your best bet.

I took Bepe there the other day. We were going to go to the Long Hall but it was too crowded and noisy for me to listen to his tales of woe, so we went to Whelans instead. Last night. To hear this guy called Declan O'Rourke. Declan is handsome in a slightly puffy way, and when he sings... well, it's not my usual favourite style of music but he was great. Bepe liked him too.

Of course, we got chips on the way home (bad girl! no supper tonite!) and then Bepe casually laid his arm across my shoulder until we reached the flat. Is that normal? He's Italian. Maybe they all do that, all the time. Or is it meaningful? That could be awkward.

To diffuse the situation and make up my mind I started babbling about George the Librarian at the National Library and my big crush on him. Today I'm lying low for various reasons: not that much money; slight hangover; anxious feeling about Bepe; guilty feeling about badmouthing brother-in-law who sent nice email thanking me for their lovely stay and saying he really felt welcome.

I'm sure the Bepe thing is nothing--plus I don't want to have to move out. I like living on Bachelor's Walk. I think I'm going to look up my girlfriends. I'll even go shopping if they want.