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About Galway

So, say you’re lookin’, right? Maybe down the red-light district—neon buzzin’ like flies on shite. Girls leanin’ in doorways, eyes hard as flint, some young enough to break your heart. “What you want, love?” one says, all casual. Surprised me, that did—how it’s just business, no faff. I’m thinkin’, blimey, this ain’t no Hollywood rubbish, this is raw, like Malik learnin’ the ropes in prison. “You do it, or you’re done,” that’s the rule.

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First stop, I hit up the Hartstown Market on Maple Ave. Best place for fresh veggies and gossip. I’m just mindin’ my own business, sharpenin’ some kitchen knives for Mrs. Jenkins. She’s always got that wild hairdo, like a bird’s nest. Anyway, she starts ramblin’ about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he’s taken to climbin’ trees. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a squirrel.” But she’s all serious, like it’s a national crisis.

Council refuses to install public lighting in ‘no-go’ Hartstown Park