Recollections of a Not So Old rock n roller
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It woz back in the days of yore - 1995 to be precisely precise, when I had relocated to Ireland from the UK and was living in and travelling the island in my camper van. But this story is not about that - although it stemmed from there.

In the aftermath of previous experience while working as a journalist in the UK, I wanted to run a charity music event in Ireland to benefit Greenpeace and all associated issues. U2 were on my list of potential performers.

And so, one sunny summer's day in the company of an individual I met from Galway, I parked the camper van up at Doolin and we crossed by ferry to the Arun Islands, where this person said he know the perfect location for such a gig.

And the perfect location it was. As the Galway Hooker pulled up to the quay, up ahead to the left was the cliff with the small castle atop overlooking a field and the beach.

And hallway down the cliff was a natural platform sticking out - wide enough to accommodate a full band and equipment. Too good to be true. I envisaged the people on the beach and field below, spotlights flooding the cliff face and castle . . . .

We were booked into the island's only hotel for a couple of days and the first day went to see someone who had the clout to help pull such an event together.

After our meeting, Mr Galway individual and myself returned to our hotel where that evening we relaxed in the hotel lounge bar.

A lonely musician was playing tunes on a squeezebox in the corner, and for some as yet unquantified reason he approached our table when he took a break from playing and asked if he could join us.

After sitting down, a few minutes later the musician asked me if I knew the Rolling Stones. As I had met two of them through my work, I said yes, I did know some of them. Nothing more was said of the matter and after a short time the man went back to playing his accordion in the corner of the bar.

By this time, as life sometimes has it when it hasn't completely demolished your reality capacity, I had noticed two young ladies sitting by themselves at a table across the room.

Without further ado I said to my companion that I'd be back and approached the girls’ table.

After saying hi and saying we had seen they were on their own I asked if they would like to join us at our table and they did.

As the evening went on the girls said they wished to walk down to the beach, so the four of us went along.

We found a spot to sit, and- well, not sure what happened next.

I had been deep in thought and trying to figure the logistics of getting enough numbers of people to the island for such a gig, given that the harbour depth prevented large ferries from docking.

Before I realised it, the two girls were walking stark naked back from the water. They had been skinny dipping. As they pulled on their clothing, it began to rain.

My Galway companion and the taller of the two girls quickly gathered their bits and pieces and hurried back towards the hotel. I was in no hurry, the rain wasn’t that heavy and so I stayed on the beach. The other girl decided to stay with me and sat besides me.

A short while later the rain began to fall heavy and as the girl had left her shoes a short distance away across a section of beach pebble stones, I hoisted her onto my shoulders and tried to piggy back her to her shoes. But, alas, I tripped and we fell into the wet sand, which then stuck to our wet clothing.

When we scuttled back to the hotel, where my companion and myself had separate rooms, the four of us found ourselves in my room, which had a double and a single bed and two armchairs. The sand off our clothing became a small beach on the hotel carpet and we tried our best to clean it up.

I then dropped into an armchair. By this time, the girl who had stayed on the beach with me had got into the double bed and was patting the blankets at her side and asking me to come over.

I said I’d be over in a few minutes, was just taking a moment’s rest.

Meanwhile, the taller girl and my Galway companion were itching to get away to the other room but, because I didn’t join the girl in the bed, became concerned that I didn’t like her and so didn’t want to leave, given their thoughts.

Eventually Mr Galway stormed out of the room in a huff, leaving me with the two girls.

We made coffee, then the two girls got into the double bed together as I sat in the armchair. For a time I tried to figure just what to do next. No invitations came from the girls in the bed, so I went and got myself into the single bed where I spent a fitful night trying to figure out anything that made any sense at all.

In the morning the girls had to travel back to the mainland to join other family members, so we all left on the ferry and parted later at Doolin.

If you don’t believe this story, there’s no hope for you.

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