The pub is empty apart from an elderly man in an electric wheelchair who’s on his fourth Guinness. The lad behind the bar fetches me a dusty bottle of Magners.
‘I’ve never sold one of these before. Is that enough ice?’ he says.
‘Yes, perfect.’
As I’m finishing my drink, the lad’s shift ends. On his way out he goes to the aid of the man in the wheelchair who’s too drunk to manoeuvre through the door. The lad can’t help much as he’s trying to keep hold of the bottle of Magners that he’s got hidden under his jacket.
