Sheltering from the cold rain and having an hour to pass I took refreshment at a recently opened cafe. As I sat in reverie, sipping tea, an awkward and ungainly mass of a man plonked himself down on the seat opposite, smashing his can of Strongbow down onto the table. The tea splashed all over as the table lurched.
“Would ye ever help me out with the price of a sandwich?” he boomed in a voice which resembled the way I imagined Cú Chulainn himself to speak when not best pleased and a little the worse for having drink taken. He’d a smile in his eye reminding me of uncle Tom, also a son of the Cooley’s and prone to amazing feats of storytelling.
At any rate, and after much resistance on the part of the owner, I settled his bill and off he went with his two companions, Deichtine, and the wandering Aengus, thanking me and threatening to see me back tomorrow after he got paid.
The owner apologised, I told him there was no need and nearly said, “There but for the grace of God…” - but chose not to and left thanking him for the hospitality.
The rain had stopped an hour passed.
I made a quick sketch of the three visitors.
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| The Three Visitors |
