Pain and suffering

Yesterday afternoon at the instigation of my mother and her partner Peter, I endured raucous Irish folk music.

Now, there is a time and a place for everything.

Except perhaps raucous Irish folk music.

Okay, maybe over a Guiness or five with some mates on St Patrick’s Day.

But when you’ve stopped by for a quiet chat and a nice cup of tea? No.

Let alone when accompanied by my mother (albeit briefly) dancing a jig.

At least it was Irish Breakfast tea.