The Legendary Duck

I spent a most enjoyable evening at the Dirty Duck (DD) in Holywood, County Down, last night, getting the train as usual.

The first thing that caught my eye was a big, white Rolls-Royce Phantom with a distinctive number-plate parked right outside the DD. It seemed to take up half the road!


Big Pete and self found a seat easily, beside the unlit fire at the front. Shame it wasn't lit last night, given that it was cold and draughty from the door.

Still, we continued the same old habit of reading the menu and opted for scampi and chips - Plus ça change! - which was up to its usual standard and very good. A lovely new waitress - young, slim, petite, coiffured hair, enthusiastic, brought the menus and caught the noble eye.

Nick, an old pal from the school-days, was there with a crowd as well.

There was a jolly crowd last night, plenty of pretty girls and I'd like to have stayed longer because I was asked why I had to leave so soon (the last train departs at 22:46). Pete suggested that we should remain later occasionally and get a taxi back.

So here I am tapping away on the keyboard with the remnants of a slightly sore head - on a gauge of One to Ten, a Two.