Meathman's Diary: A cautionary tale from the cold snap

In the shadows of a Navan alley, two lads were clearly involved in a 'business exchange'.

The smaller of the two looked the most uneasy, shivering in the Arctic air, checking over his shoulder for prying eyes, or worse, gardai.

The bigger man was far more relaxed in his shiny Canada Goose coat and snood pulled up to the nose. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he'd one foot pressed back against the wall behind him, you could tell this wasn't his first rodeo.

After a quick sleight of hand between the pair, the taller figure unzipped his overpriced lagging jacket to whip out a package that he quickly passed to the smaller guy, who in turn stuffed it into his raggedy duffle.

He turned on his heels and moved at speed back towards daylight and Market Square. He brushed past me, shooting a nervous glance left and right before slipping away into the biting wind and falling sleet.

It was my turn now. I made my way up towards the Goose jacket, in silhouette he looked more like the Michelin Man.

"Alright?" he asked, the foot and shoulder still pressed against the wall, hands sunk in pockets.

"Yeah, yeah," says I, trying to not sound terrified. "Have ya 12?".

"Pfff, 12? Would ya stop.... I've 6s, 12s can't be got, he says.

"Go on, give me two 6s so", says I, trying to sound hard but failing miserably.

"It'll cost ya," says the long fella, the foot coming off the wall and he standing upright now, looming over me.

I hand over the cash, the right amount judging by the grin on the Goose.

"Go up the lane and Yer Man will sort ya," says the Goose, counting the notes.

He nods to Yer Man, a small stocky lad standing in a dark doorway.

I walk towards him half wondering if I'm going to get a clatter to the back of the head.

"Here," says Yer Man, "take these and on your way."

He pushes the two 6-packs of toilet rolls into my arms and gestures for me to take off.

"These are 2-ply!" I exclaim, my desperation letting all caution go out the window. "They wouldn’t wipe the smile off your face, let alone anything else, where are the quilted? I paid for quilted."

"Quilted! Are ya mad, ya can't get 4-ply or scented now, in this weather? Now, take them and get walkin’".

Goose has seen the kerfuffle and is walking towards us.

"Have we a problem here," he says in a way that means we better not have a problem here.

"No hassle," mutters I, accepting it's most definitely time to leave.

I'm about to retreat but get a rush of blood to the head...

Here, have yiz any sliced pans?