It had been one of those weeks. An uncle from the invisible side of the family – a long typical Irish foster story that only the Irish are not upset by or astounded at – had passed away. The rollercoaster of moving to a new place continues with new friends offering moments of delight and other friends letting you down when you least expect it. The grand old story of life. So we walked to the nearest cocktail bar on the beach, a pseudo Balinese affair. It offered solace with wonderfully kitsch decor, garish cocktails and sitting with feet in the sand, the sea a moment away and the sun setting on a week that could happily disappear, we drank to the future.
