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really good mood.’
    We head upstairs for a look. After a while though, I’m beginning to feel slightly depressed. How many charter flights to Athens would I have to do before I could afford a single Armani suit? I spot a few immaculately dressed women wandering about, pausing to hold various garments against themselves in the mirror. I wonder if they have fabulously wealthy husbands. Or are they mistresses even? Or did they simply win the lottery? I know they’re not high-powered executives because if they were, they’d be at work, wouldn’t they?
    I love speculating about other people’s lives. My imagination goes into overdrive as I think about the exciting lives other people must lead. I sometimes look at little girls’ faces on flights and they look back at me, probably thinking I must have the best job in the world. And I look at other people in office jobs with every weekend off and think how nice their lives must be. Sometimes I just wonder what constitutes a really exciting life. Maybe we’re all just lost souls looking for something that simply doesn’t exist?
    Debbie is looking a bit bored at this stage. She’s fingering the racks of clothes but not really paying close attention. She has a glazed look in her eye. I know that look.
    ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Let’s go and get ourselves a drink.’
    Alarm bells sound loudly. If she thinks I’m falling for that, she has another thing coming. I’ve known Debbie for the last few years and I have never ever known her to go for just the one drink.
    ‘Let’s get something to eat first,’ I suggest. I’ve a strong feeling I need to line my stomach. We eat in a salad bar in The Powerscourt Centre before heading downstairs to Ba Mizu where we order two quarter-bottles of wine. The glasses they give us are so huge. Mmm. I wonder why they do that?
    Anyway I like this bar, despite the large glasses and its dark interior. It’s dark in a pleasant way. I like dark bars, especially late at night, when the old make-up starts to wear off and my eyes become a bit bloodshot.
    The wine tastes good. Almost too good. There’s something very satisfying about sitting in a bar drinking wine in the middle of the day while the rest of the world is at work. It’s a bit like mitching school, isn’t it? I also love drinking on planes. Because it’s a bit like drinking at the office. Of course I don’t drink while I’m at work. No. Well, obviously not. Even though that’s the very time I could do with a stiff drink. But when I’m going on holidays I love sipping wine while somebody else serves the passengers. I don’t want to drink too much now though. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll end up telling Debbie about my phone call to Adam. Alcohol’s desperate like that, isn’t it? One drink too many and all innermost thoughts are anybody’s.
    Don’t you just hate revealing secrets under the influence of alcohol? It’s easy to do at the time but it’s horrible waking up and remembering that you’ve said lots of things you shouldn’t have. And I especially don’t like not remembering how I got home, or whom I snogged. And I hate finding unfamiliar phone numbers in my bag without knowing how the hell they got there. Of course the worst thing is remembering half way through the day that the person I snogged is someone that I work with. Someone I don’t even like. Or somebody with a girlfriend.
    ‘Would you ever get that into you?’ Debbie urges. She’s almost finished her glass of wine and I’ve just started sipping mine.
    I know any minute she’s going to nod at my glass and go, ‘Same again?’ and I’m afraid I’m not going to have the willpower to say no. I sip slowly but that doesn’t stop her from ordering two more quarter bottles. She never even asked if I wanted another drink. I’m embarrassed. After all, it’s my round. But she says I can buy the next two. The next two? Oh, God, I just knew this was going to happen.
    After Ba Mizu we head to Davy