Thinking of yee Olde Irish Joanne

I remember we were walking in St George's Street when the sky blackened and it started pouring down in sheets of driving rain. We weren't dressed for this kind of rain, so our clothing quickly became soaked and while giggling at the absurdity of the situation, Jo pulled me by the arm into a little "hole in the wall" type place which I didn't even know existed.

It was an old Irish Pub with dim lighting and the typical kind of bare sandstone brick walls. It felt like a different century when we stepped inside, being greeted by mixed apprisals ranging from scolding to cheers that we had come in from the bad weather. There was a roaring fire burning in the old curved stone top fire place and there was music playing softly in the background, almost drowned out by the noise of the rain falling.

Even though the place seemed dark and a little dingy, it felt strangely welcoming and it was unpretentious in it's simplicity and unapologetic authenticity.

The memory is old and a little bit faded, but we sat by a window, watching this torrential downpour cleanse the dirty city streets which now closely resembled a ghost town. We ordered pub lunch specials and Irish coffee and we sat talking about everything and nothing.

_{Image is my own, photograph in the image is the original processed from film, 2001.}

^{Calvin & Hobbes - Bill Watterson}