I’m getting old. There was time when I’d be fine after an all-nighter on Friday, a beer festival on Saturday and a housewarming/birthday party on Sunday, but not any more. I’m sicker than a flight to Lourdes. Sicker than a priest in a playground.
Nile Rodgers started it. It was all his fault with his infectious Chic disco-rhythms at the Milk Market, spreading good cheer, happiness and general light-hearted dancingness, though I can’t dance. I can’t talk.
Limerick was bouncing with good-humoured people, good cheer and friendliness on Friday night, and Nile Rodgers brought a stupendously great bunch of musicians and singers with him to reward all the fans who turned out, but let me make a confession. I never really got the disco idea. Discos and night-clubs were never really my thing and I suppose, in truth, I was probably a bit of a musical snob too, back when Disco was big, but I have to tell you, this fellow educated my head and my feet and for that I thank him.
Ah Jesus, it was great and then everyone went back to Dolans for more fun, including Nile Rodgers, his bass player and his drummer. I don’t know what time I got home and that’s a good thing these days, but unfortunately, another challenge lay in store for me the following day when Nancys held the annual beer festival, with brews of a strength up to 11%.
And here’s the landlord making a reasonable, subdued presentation to his patrons.
Sometimes, you just have to love Limerick.