I’ve spent years giving out about Maurice and his allergy to coming home at a reasonable hour. I’m a firm believer in a good night’s sleep and in the dictum that one should go to bed the same day one gets up.

Anyway, I broke all my own rules during the week, and I blame Maurice for it – or at least the absence of Maurice. One of the major downsides to living alone is cooking, you never really cook a proper meal for yourself, at least I don’t. I was in Manus’s shop poking around and looking for something fast and tasty to cook when he came up to me.

“You look lost Bid,” he said.

“Well Manus, I’m sort of,” says I. “Maurice is away and I can’t make up my mind what to cook.”

“Why not have the dinner with me Bid,” says he, “and you can meet my new fella.”

“New fella?” says I. “I didn’t even know you had an old one.”

“Oh I think this guy is the real thing,” says he.

“Don’t rush into anything,” says I, “there’s more fish in the sea than one.”

“I’m worn out from fishing, Bid,” says he, “but I think I might have made a decent catch for myself this time. Eric is his name, a Waterford man. Do please come for dinner and meet him, ye’ll get along great.”

“Now that’s what I call an invitation,” says I, “and I’d love to meet your new man. A Waterford man no less, I was always partial to the Déise boys myself, in my day.”

“We’ll have none of that chat,” laughs Manus. “We’ll see you at around half eight.”

Later that evening I went along to the flat over the shop, where Manus introduced me to Eric, a silage contractor and a lovely fella. We had a grand evening, the food was delicious, the chat was great and of course the wine flowed freely.

I was doing great ’till I got up to leave and the room started to swim like one of those fish myself and Manus had been talking about. I had to sit down again.

“Make me a cup of tay,” says I. “It might steady me before I go home.”

“We’ll take you home,” says Manus.

“Of course we will,” agreed Eric.

“Ye’ll do no such thing,” says I. “The whole town will be talking about me. A woman of my age being linked across the street by two young men after midnight.”

“Won’t it be worse if you fall and hurt yourself,” said Manus.

“It won’t,” says I. “If I fall and hurt myself I’ll get sympathy, I’ll have visitors, flowers and mass cards with meals-on-wheels to feed me. On the other hand, if I’m seen crossing the street linked on either side by two young men they’ll call me an auld hussy.”

I had the cup of tea and stood up again, determined to make my own way home. Straightening myself, I grabbed my handbag from the chair, tucked it under my oxter and made straight for the door.

“Are you alright Bid?” asked Manus.

I wanted to tell him shut up so that I could concentrate on getting to the door.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” asked Eric.

“Of course I am,” says I, “why do ye keep asking?”

“Won’t you need your handbag?” asked Manus.

“Haven’t I got it under my arm?” says I.

“You have the cushion from the chair under your arm,” says Manus “your bag is on the floor.”

Sure enough ‘twas the cushion I had tucked under my oxter. So, with all the dignity I could muster, I returned to the chair, put down the cushion and bent over to pick up my handbag. However, when I went to straighten myself I couldn’t move, my back had locked onto an ‘L’ shape.

There I was, with my nose to the floor and my arse to the ceiling and not a stir out of my middle.

Thankfully, Eric is a sort of an amateur physio and after much massaging and the application of a series of hot water bottles, they managed to straighten me. I could stand and walk but, misfortunately, I couldn’t negotiate the stairs.

“You’ll have to stay the night,” says Manus.

“Oh good heavens, I can’t do that,” says I.

“Well you can’t walk down the stairs either,” said Manus. “Unless you want to call an ambulance.”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

I had to stay the night. There’s only one bed in the flat, a big one. Manus got me into one of his T-shirts and pyjama bottoms, and I slept between the two lads.

As we lay there, Manus said: “Well Bid, you now have one more claim to fame?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You can always say it took two gay men to straighten you.” CL