The Field

I'm told that it's not compulsory to go out drinking every night after the show, and having examined my contract that seems true, but it's damned difficult not to. Especially in Kilkenny, where there are six bars in a row directly opposite the theatre and dozens within a few minutes walk.
I may be generalising dreadfully, but in my experience a weekday night out in Ireland is incomparably better than one in the UK. Tonight we found ourselves listening to "The Briars" in a hurling pub and joked with the band, got bought drinks, spoke to a man called John who looked like D'Artagnan and pogo'ed with a guy called Nicky who was the bodhran player's brother - and who was more drunk than any man I have ever seen still standing. Maybe it's because we're visitors; perhaps being the sole man in the company of three young women in their early twenties doesn't hurt, but "there was yet no animosity no matter what persuasion" (in the words of the Dubliners), and a bonhomie which seemed genuine and inclusive.

Nicky strikes! The perils of being young and female in The Field.

Later Helen and Kate join the band for a farewell chorus of something forgettable and we end the night standing for the Irish national anthem. As you do. My penance will be a substantial hangover and a swim tomorrow morning, and a night "off the jar".