It’s time to enjoy another organic Galway ramble!

Charlie Adley
Charlie Adley

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

As I head into the city, I wonder if tonight’s the right night for my Organic Galway Ramble No. 3,256. I call them Organic not because my nights out are righteous or wholesome in any New Age way, but solely because I have no plans; made no arrangements.

I’m going to let Galway lead me.

That’s the way this city likes it.

PJ McDonagh’s represents so much more than my traditional starting point: it’s an essential component of any Galway ramble. However weak or pathetic you feel as you enter, you’ll be raring to go after the light crispy batter, piping hot flaky fresh white fish and incredible chips.

Dammit, even the vinegar tastes special as I eat staring at Biddy Ward’s pocket and poem once again.

Now that’s better. All of a sudden, your scribbler has a thirst.

Over two Jamies enjoyed outside the Quays, conversation with a pair of local characters leaps seamlessly from the Atlas Mountains to the moons of Jupiter. From there it’s a happy road of reminiscence to Apollo 8, to Borman, Lovell and Anders, the first men to see the dark side of the moon, whose mission filled my 8-year-old mind with inspiration and wonder.

I don’t tend to like Tigh Neactain at night, but I open the door to take a look and am presented by a sea of backs, a wave of noise and body heat. No thanks. Not got the energy for that. Tonight, I want a gentle ramble, not a social scrum down

Now I wander down to the Docks, to stare at the millpond that is the Atlantic on this rare calm November evening. Each step I take sends a shooting pain down my left leg. ‘Sciatica on the way!’ methinks, as I am an idiot who has yet again proved correct Einstein’s definition of stupidity: do the same thing and expect a different result. This time last year I put my back out sorting the garden compost, and today I did it again.

As I said: idiot.

Standing right at the end of the Docks, I’m caught between the artificial and natural worlds. To my right, under blinding electric spotlights, a pair of tyrannosauric JCBs are loading vast heaps of gravel onto a ship.

To read Charlie’s column in full, please see this week’s Galway City Tribune.