This is my son now – north Dublin’s leading wine snob
‘Tell me what you smeddle,’ he goes. ‘Liquorice – am I right? And blackbeddies?’
‘I’m not going to call you Mister anything,’ I tell the deputy principal, and the boys all stort sniggering
Slippers McRory was in my year back in the day. And to think, everyone predicted great things for him
Honor’s date for the debs is a looker. She clearly takes after her old man in that regord
Sorcha is up to 90, and still hoping Honor will decide to wear her dress from our debs in 1995
Ronan pours the wine and goes, ‘It’s a surprising little number with notes of candyfloss, anchovies and balsawood’
The great and the good - and Ro’s old crew - have turned out for the big opening of Fionnuala’s on the Green
‘You were mugged in Dalkey? Things like that don’t happen there’
Sorcha screams when he sees me with two black eyes, but the last thing I want is for the gords to be called
‘I didn’t do a tap in school and yet life worked out pretty well for me’
There’s, like, 30 kids in front of me on the Castlerock pitch, just waiting for the Rossmeister to fill their heads with knowledge
‘The old man running a restaurant is like asking me to teach physics through Irish’
The old man has bought Shanahan’s on the Green and wants to turn it into a family business
‘Rugby is the best idea we’ve ever come up with as a species,’ I go, channelling Fr Fehily
I tag along as Brian, Johnny and Leo get the tour of Castlerock College from Fionn, but the school isn’t quite how I remember it
Sorcha goes, ‘The Dalkey Lobster Festival is this weekend. How am I going to show my face?’
Honor has just given Sorcha her biggest shock since she found out her teenage pen pal was actually a death row inmate in Texas
‘I think you should have a conversation with Honor about her drinking,’ Sorcha goes
We’re picking her up from the airport after her Leaving Cert holiday and – yeah, no – she’s mashed all right
‘I got thrun out of Amedica,’ Ronan goes. ‘Me visa was revoked’
‘There must be something we can do,’ I say. ‘Someone we can threaten. Or pay’
When Honor drops the news, I sit there with my mouth open like someone from Roscommon seeing escalators for the first time
Honor’s debs is coming up, and Sorcha’s telling her not to make the same mistake she made
The old dear made a seating plan for her own funeral. She didn’t want ugly people in the first three pews
It’s the morning of Fionnuala’s funeral and the gaff is a scene of chaos
I get this sudden flashback to when I was six or seven and I’d hold the wheel steady for the old dear while she drove home, half-cut
Ross and Honor dress up the visitors’ room to take the old dear to her favourite restaurant for a bloody Mary with an extra shot
The old dear goes, ‘Sorcha? I don’t know anyone of that name. Is she one of your tarts, Ross?’
Ross and Brett are hosting a living funeral for Fionnuala, but she can’t remember anyone