Restaurant review: Linnane’s Lobster Bar, Co Clare

EATING near the seashore, on the very edge of the tide where those lingering smells of half-deckers’ diesel, frayed, drying ropes, seaweed turning to acrid soil to be eventually blown back to sea and jumbles of lobster pots stacked like an already-drunk July 12 bonfire of hate, whets the appetite for good food, like the three daughters of the old river god Achelous — the Sirens — whetted appetites sometimes as pressing but not always as easily satisfied.
Despite everything, despite shaking off the old shackles of judgement and fear, getting a Big Mac to-go is probably still easier than getting a Ms Mac to go. Or, dear sisters, even a shy Mr Mac.