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About Bray

So, we’re talkin’ rates, me and her. She’s cool, no bullshit. Says, “Thirty, full deal.” Hate negotiatin’, but fair’s fair. Hand her the cash, crisp bills—none of that digital garbage. She winks, says, “You’re a weird one.” Damn right, I am. Hate normal. We head off, and I’m thinkin’, this beats watchin’ Cathy cry over her pansy gardener any day.

Nobody is coming soon

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I’m walking down the Main Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. And then, BAM! I bump into Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s this sweet old lady who always has a story. Today, she’s raving about some “ghost” she saw near the old railway station. I’m like, “Sure, Mrs. O’Reilly, ghosts are just the spirits of bad decisions.” But she’s dead serious. I mean, who wouldn’t be spooked by the old Balbriggan train station? It’s got that eerie vibe, you know?

In Balbriggan, council plans permanent one-way system for Quay Street and Seapoint