Eurovision night, Belfast.
We walked the length of Ormeau Road, wondering why no-one makes graffiti about Plum Porter rather than politics.
A mere 20 minutes after leaving the Oak Lounge, one of our number needed another comfort break.
Luckily, the Quinno Guide to Belfast told me that the Hatfield House was a large, rambling pub where Mrs RM would be able to nip into the Ladies without being conspicuous,
while I admired the decor.
Always assuming she could find the Ladies of course.
The Hatfield House reminded me of that Whitbread Tut & Shive chain from the mid-90s. all cycles dangling from the ceiling, seven (7) TVs showing different sports no-one was watching (bar a few plastic Scousers),
and a glorious collection of keg, including a rare sighting of Punk. I resisted.
Ormeau Road leaves behind its collection of wine bars and noodle shops and turns a bit grim as you head towards the centre. Except for fans of highly detailed political murals.
At the City Hall, we realised we’d improbably walked 5 miles, and somehow avoided the Cup Final but still with 2 hours before Eurovision.
What to do, hey ?
A tour of the cranes ?
Or another pub ?