Once a month we three meet like the witches in Macbeth, though not sisters weird or otherwise and certainly not on some `blasted heath'. No, our usual meeting place is Mink in Parnell Road where invariably we are the last to leave, not noticing that the music has long been turned off, the lights dimmed, tables wiped, and all the other patrons left the premises forty minutes before.
I have known Sheila and Anne for thirty eight years and recently I realised with a shock that they are among my oldest friends. And probably that's part of the problem because although we meet regularly there is so much to talk about that time literally flies along together with the copious amounts of red and white wine.
At the conclusion of each meeting after the apologies to the long suffering Mink staff have been gracefully accepted, someone always says, `next month I'm only going to have one glass of wine...'
- and then it's hugs all round before we rev up our broomsticks!
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