John Finlay, the man with the too-big grin and the trendy shorts and t-shirt combo, was waving loo roll in my face at the caravan toilet window.

I had forgotten about him in all the madness and excitement of the trip up to Donegal.

He owned the beautiful mobile next door to where we were staying, and had been in and out of our caravan all the time during our brief holiday last summer: a super-confident, super-successful solicitor who, on the surface, was also super-generous.

“It’s what we all do up here,” he had said, his eyes electric.

Cormac Moore: 100 years of The Soldier’s Song, the national anthem that Ireland has never fully embraced

Newton Emerson: DUP and Sinn Féin’s electoral fortunes may be tied together

“I mean, Fabien, if I stepped out of the shower buck naked and you were at my breakfast bar with a smoothie, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It’s just you guys aren’t used to it.”

I was minded of Graham Norton in Father Ted, Irish dancing round the tiny caravan, while Ted and........

© The Irish News