But she had her job to keep. Pity though. It’d probably sell like hot cakes. Then the phone rang. “Ah Blue. If it isn’t me favourite Colleen.”...The voice was deep, strong and had Irish blarney written all over it. And that’s just what she felt like at this moment. She knew the voice. It was Brendan MacPherson. He was an executive in the finance department of one of Ireland’s new booming software development companies. She had met him briefly but memorably when she was attending a graphics. A few weeks ago, I was lounging around as usual, parked next to the drain I use for an ashtray, enjoying the sunshine. I always park in that spot, with my back to the cash machine (ATM), I can see what's going on there in the mirrors on my buggy, I keep an eye out as sometimes the oldies less able than me get fucked up, and I give them a hand. This particular day must have been a Friday or Saturday evening, as a young couple walked past me to the cash machine, laughing and joking, touching each. More

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