ROMANTIC INTERLUDE

(Never has the internet dared to be so explicit)

Picnic with Melissa Tarkington at the lake.

A few ducks amble past, laughing about something.

I begin telling her about my new film The Rah Thing.

She favours me with her full attention.

I get really into it, acting out the scenes, doing the voices.

From far away in the world I am weaving, I am aware of her attentive silence.

I think to myself: Wow, she's really going for it. She's entranced. This film could actually work.

Briefly I emerge from the mists of imagination to check in on her. I want to gauge her reactions more precisely, see which bit she likes best, get some critical feedback, and so on.

She starts guiltily.

"Oh sorry," she says. "I took your crisps."

With horror, I realise it is true.

She is munching my bag of Tayto crisps.

Not her bag.

My bag.

I had brought her a bag of Tayto crisps for herself but she's finished that, (I suppose while the Rah were chasing the heroes around the Ring of Kerry) and has moved on to my crisps.

My crisps.

Realisation dawns.

The sheer excruciating insufferability of listening to my voice even for five minutes is so unendurable to her that she's gobbled one full bag and another half bag of crisps rather than actually risk hearing a word I'm saying.

For the record I was more offended that she took my crisps than that she can't or won't listen to my voice.

I do like Tayto crisps.

We will die alone.