As a regular reader of this blog, dear reader you may recall recently I mentioned and old pal of mine, Wally. Wally got married but in the intervening weeks of Wally’s single days before his mother in law took hold of the situation, Myself and Wally were known to frequent the city centre on a fine Summer’s evening.
This journey often involved a visit to a selection of the city’s hostelries and the full benefit of the cities warmth was welcomed and availed of. However as the night wore on a young man’s inhibitions would leave him as the amber nectar started to take effect. It was fair to say that bravery was matched with stupidity and humour was mixed with sheer folly.
On one such occasion myself and Wally were making our way from Temple Bar to the Grafton Street area. The best route was to head in the direction of Wicklow Street and follow on through. Well if the truth be told at this juncture of the evening, it was reasonably early but it is also fair to say that perhaps we had overdone it already in the drink department. We started to make our way through the cobbles and headed for our destination. A simple enough task you can only begin to imagine but as you know, when you one’s vision is clouded...well things don’t always go to plan.
So if any of you know the South Anne Street of Dublin will know that there are some small shops and restaurants on what is a quaint little street. At the time there was a small restaurant on the right hand side which had a half door. A door you would see in a stable. It added to the quaintness of the area. A packed restaurant, a nice buzz, the Summer breeze airing in through the half door and wafting the sound of the city onto the ears of the diners.
It was all to tempting for Wally.
As we walked up the street I noticed momentarily that he wasn’t at my side anymore. I turned as gracefully as the number 37 bus to see that he was walking in the direction of the restaurant. I stood ...as best I could... to see him approach the stable door. Then as I looked on in confusion he suddenly stuck his head over the top of the half door and started to nod his head up and down vigorously like a horse. To add to the occasion he started to whinny loudly and blow out in a an equine manner. You can picture the scene if you were sitting in the restaurant. This head coming over the stable door and bellowing loudly like a horse over a real stable door.
For a second after there was silence. Then I heard a lady breaking into convulsions of laughter. Next there was a cry of “Look ...it’s a horse!” The whole restaurant became animated now and for a moment the situation was quite humorous. However that was momentary.
For the next thing I saw was the Chinese man running down the restaurant with some form of kitchen implement in his hand. As he waved it furiously he was shouting something along the lines of “Geh the Mook owha fwom my rethran...” It could have been something entirely different but this is as best as my memory serves me.
It’s funny how a body can snap into action in a time of emergency. Because like the racehorse that Wally was impersonating, he immediately bounded past me in a sprint finish that Red Rum himself would have been proud of. The restaurant owner was now on the street and with this in mind, I followed Wally in my own awkward canter.
As we mused the next day about how the evening had gone we were able to afford a giggle and look back on events from the comfort of our own couches. Well I was...I tried to contact Wally but to no avail. It was later on in the evening, that we eventually made touch.
“Where were you?” I asked.
There was a brief pause.
“At the races.” Said he.