…because I’m in Dublin airport waiting for my plane.

Book spoils from Belfast:

Eamonn Mallie and David McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland
Plato, The Republic
Chris Bird, To Catch A Tartar: Notes from the Caucasus
Olivia Manning, The Balkan Trilogy

Last night I crashed early in Madison’s, which was just as well because when their live band started at 10.30 there was no way I was getting any more sleep until they stopped. I got up, had a shower, and wandered around a bit, looking for a quiet spot where I could pull together my thoughts and write a bit more of my talk for this morning. Renshaw’s duly obliged, appearing like a wasteland in comparison with the throbbing nightlife along Botanic Avenue, so I settled down and wrote another two pages. Two nice girls from Tyrone appeared and came over to chat me up, astonished by the fact that someone was sitting writing a lecture in the pub at midnight on a Friday (which I agree is a little odd). They eventually gave up on me and went to work on the barmen, who were the only other people left in the place by then.

It was a bit odd to be back in Belfast for twenty-four hours, eight years after I moved away, and I asked the two Tyrone girls what they thought about emigrating – would they stay in Belfast for the rest of their lives? One of them, a nurse, had hankerings to move to Australia, but I didn’t really believe her. The other, who’d just got her law degree, was already signed up to do the law college course in Chester. I doubt that she’ll ever come back to Northern ireland.

Right, must go find something to eat before entrusting my person to RyanAir. Will write more about the conference, and NI politics, later.