Ploughing on despite being out of my field

Barbara Scully headed to Laois for the ‘farmers’ festival’ and concluded that New York is easier to negotiate

I COULD NOT find my car. My feet were sore. I was panicking. It was as crowded as Grafton Street at 5pm on Christmas Eve. I headed towards the portaloos that shimmered tantalisingly in the middle distance, because I remembered there were loos near where I parked.

But as I neared, I realised that these were not my loos. I was close to tears.