I can't believe it's that time of the year again.....our girlie Christmas night out. Genevieve, Majella, Rose and I headed out for our annual dinner.
I know I gave up alcohol for November, but hey it was the 26th. That's close enough to a month!
I blame the vodka for the fact that we ended up in Mantra nightclub
Or Mantrap, as my nieces like to call it....so you can image the age group!
That aside, we had a great time. I was a bit taken aback by some of the "outfits" almost worn by the girls!
That's a real sign of my age!
Honestly, I've seen ants dry themselves off with larger pieces of fabric! The fact that we didn't expose large areas of flesh didn't deter one brave soul. He approached us with the classic line
"I have a nesst and I'm looking for a laying hen!"
I had to burst his bubble.
"Sorry Pet, but if you're counting on my eggs, you'll be sorely disappointed!"
Later we said our goodbyes and Genevieve and I got a taxi back home. Our taxi driver was a lovely man, full of chat. We discovered that Vincent, Genevieve's husband, plays soccer with Mr. Taximan's brother-in-law. That's Ireland for ya. You never know where you're talking!
He was telling us that he would head home at about four o clock to have a cup of tea and a shower, then he would head back into Dublin to work from 5.30am til about 11. The reality of the economic state of our little country suddenly reared its ugly head through our vodka induced haze. He told us he was only taxiing for the past two years. Before that, he had had his own auctioneering business and had his retirement planned out. Then the shit hit the fan, and now he's working as a taxi driver.
He wasn't grumbling or complaining. In fact he was very upbeat. I'm quite sure he didn't think three years ago that this is what he would be doing on a Saturday night. But he was just grateful to have a job at all now.
A very sobering thought.