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An Open Letter To The Wine Bandit
Hey Girl,
Remember me? Probably not, it’s been a little over 10 years. And let’s face it, you weren’t really paying me much attention to me.
Funny thing, I remember you vividly. I haven’t thought about you much until recently but you popped up in conversation and I thought I’d drop you a line. I have a few questions.
First, a purple velour tracksuit? Really? And in July? I mean, I know Dublin isn’t a tropical destination, but that summer we met, it was unseasonably hot. You must have been roasting, which might explain why you did what you did.
I recall catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye. I noticed your thick, wild hair. It was dyed a bright, bright, BRIGHT blonde, and I have to say, it certainly provided a stunning contrast to the Barney-coloured ensemble.
You were watching us, my husband and I as we enjoyed a drink and some nibbles al fresco at a little place on Millenium Parkway. It was the day before my 40th birthday.
Seated beside us were a lively trio, 2 guys and a girl, roughly my age, give or take. We exchanged a few polite words, but it seemed they wanted to keep to themselves. And let’s be honest, I’ve never been a social butterfly, so I was more than…
