69
Early morning, I listened to the news. Ferocious fighting on the outskirts of Baghdad. The Americans had taken the airport and renamed it Baghdad International.
What’s in a name?
I rang NUI and asked if I might speak to the professor, make an appointment maybe. Difficult, as he’d a heavy agenda of lectures, seminars, meetings. He should be free near 4.30 p.m. I hung up.
That gave me the day.
I wore black jeans, black T and my garda all-weather overcoat. In my pockets, I put screwdrivers, the dead girls’ photos and Deirdre of the Sorrows. It was a beautiful spring day, and as I walked towards Dominic Street, I had to take my coat off. My limp was definitely improving. I remembered Tim Coffey saying that kids would call me “Johnny the limp”. Well, it hadn’t happened.
The Crescent wa
