Nick's Preparation for the End of the World

Early this morning I went out for a walk and ran into an old friend of mine, who was on his way home from the pub.

No, the pubs here do not have special licenses. They close at the same time as elsewhere in Ireland. But Nick is a special character and often manages to get 'locked in' with a group of people who have decided to stay on and drink all through the night.

He likes his pints, and at times he just tries to forget his sorrows by taking a swim in a lake of stout.

There is a lot he likes to forget. A harsh childhood and wasted youth, a boring career with the ESB, which he gave up eventually, a failed business and a lot of years during which he had no choice but looking after his ageing and ailing mother. Those years almost killed him, as they deprived him of the one thing he really loves: Freedom.

So he started drinking. It also bothers him at times that he never found love in his life, though he would never admit that. Being in his late fifties now, he is still a bachelor, with no apparent interest in changing his situation.

He's not gay and actually likes women. And he's not bad looking either. Tall and slim, still with a full head of dark hair, he looks quite attractive. Perhaps a little austere and serious, but that is a trait you find in many artists.

Every time there is a new woman in my life he turns up for tea and makes great conversation. I have no idea how he finds out, but somehow he does. He sits there with us, often for hours, and flirts away across the room as if I were not present at all. But that's how far as it goes. He's never made a pass at any of my girls, and I've never seen him with a woman.

When he needs company, he goes for some pints and cigarettes. As they are no longer possible to enjoy together in public - thanks to the anti-smoking fascists in government - he buys his stout more and more often in the supermarket and drinks at home, where no-one bothers him and where it is still legal to smoke.

But last night he was out, for a long session, as he told me. Was there any special reason, I asked, and he said yes, there was. He was preparing for the end of the world.

How come, I wondered. Well, he explained, all is falling to pieces in this country: the economy is dead, the banks are basically bust, and everything gets more and more expensive. He is certain that Brian Lenihan will raise the already high prices for drink and cigarettes even more in his budget next week. So he went to the credit union, took out a loan and went for a long night into his favourite pub.

"I'm going to enjoy life as long as I can afford it," he said with a sarcastic smile. "And when the big crush comes, I will sit here and smile. I've seen this coming for a long time, but no-on cares or is listening to reason."

He shook my hand, smiled, and then staggered slowly towards his cottage. I kept walking for an hour and had a lovely morning, but somehow Nick's dark words stayed with me. Perhaps he knows something I don't...