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I hit the streets, tho—elevators get old fast. This one bird, right, she’s standin’ by a flickerin’ lamp, all sass and shadow. “What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m wastin’ her night. “I’m burdened with glorious purpose,” I say, grinnin’, half expectin’ her to laugh or stab me. She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d do the same. “Fifty quid,” she goes, and I’m like, mate, I’m a god, not a bank! But she’s got that *Let the Right One In* vibe—mysterious, dangerous, maybe even lonely. “I don’t let just anyone in,” she mutters, echoin’ the flick, and I’m hooked.

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I dash outta the café, and it’s like a scene from a movie. I’m weaving through people, dodging kids, and trying not to trip over the cobblestones. Tullamore’s streets are cute, but man, they can be a hazard! I finally make it to Patrick Street, and it’s buzzing. Like, everyone’s out shopping, and I’m just trying to get my stuff and go.

MEMORY LANE: Out and about for nights on the town in Tullamore from the Offaly archives