It was a drowsy kind of evening. The sun was low, the evening was warm and we were thirsty.
So it was a bit of a disappointment to wander into Father Ted's and be ignored. Fair enough, the bartender was busy at one end of the bar, but then she stayed at that end of the bar.
When it finally became too embarrassing even for her, she schlepped down the bar and inquired as to whether we fancied a drink. We did indeed, much to her apparent disgust. But, despite the intro, the main course was acceptable - decent beer, good cocktails and a reasonable wine list.
We took our drinks and wandered around the place, nodding approvingly at hints that there might be music. There is, of course, given that this is an Irish pub.
Everyone else seemed to be a local, which is always a good sign in a pub, until you realise that only regulars get served. Fed up with waiting for another round, we headed downstairs to the Munster Bar. Marvellous service, but avoiding the drunken Irish looking for a fight was less than pleasant, even for someone who comes from a part of Ireland where this kind of behaviour is par for the course.
Opinion was that this could be a great pub, if only there wasn't the feeling that you were only one spilled drink away from a bloodbath, delivered by young, red-necked Irish lads wearing GAA jerseys.
I really thought we'd all grown out of that, but maybe not.