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About Navan

First off, it ain’t like orderin’ pizza. You don’t just yell “delivery!” and bam, there’s a chick at your door. Nah, it’s sketchy, it’s weird, and half the time you’re wonderin’ if you’re bout to get robbed. Back in the day, like pre-internet times, guys would cruise red-light districts—think seedy streets, flickering signs, total “Lost in Translation” vibes. “What am I doing here?” you’d mutter, feelin’ like a ghost in your own damn life. Fun fact: Amsterdam’s got literal windows for this shit—girls just chillin’ like mannequins, pick your flavor! Wild, right?

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Then, I hit up the Cavan Town Park. It’s got this lovely vibe, but today? It was packed with kids. They were running around, screaming, and I just wanted a moment of peace. I found a bench, plopped down, and tried to meditate. But nope, kids were playing tag right next to me. I swear, I almost joined in.

Death Notice of Bernard (Barney) Fleming (Kingscourt, Cavan)