At the Edge of Ireland by David Yeadon

strangers, I should add, not entirely succumbed to the juice of the barley (“He has the drink taken, but not to unseemly excess,” in local police lingo), have told me about aspects of their lives that they possibly wouldn’t even think of sharing with their spouses. Maybe for them it’s a toss-up between a mumbled recitation of sins in the confessionals of the towering gray cathedrallike edifice up the street, or in the more relaxed raconteurship here with someone you’ve never met before and may never meet or remember again.
    However, in the case of Adrienne, I guarantee you’ll certainly remember your first meeting. There’s an aura about her that lures you to the bar. She looks straight at you—gentle eyes from a pretty but proud face framed by long blond tresses. She exudes kindness, sensitivity, a quiet wisdom, and a sense of fun—frisky and bubbly—beneath her placid demeanor. You feel you could trust her with all your worldly woes and worries and that she’d find time to listen while pulling half a dozen pints, making change, taking orders for sandwiches, and smiling at someone’s corny joke down the bar.
    Following the publication of McCarthy’s Bar , with a photograph of Adrienne’s colorful little pub on the cover along with a behatted Peter and a nun in her black robe supping a pint of Guinness on a bench outside the front door, the place has become a bit of a shrine with travel book lovers.
    â€œEvery day I find I’m talking about him to strangers,” Adrienne told me. “I tell them the way he’d pop in after the publication of the book and peep his head around the door and sigh with relief when he saw that nothing had really changed. I think he dreaded that the popularity of his book would spoil things around here. But, except for a few extra visitors and blow-in residents, it’s still a place for the locals really. Occasionally we’ll get letters from people who loved his book—really sweet messages. Even poems and things. I think it’s a great honor for Pete—and for us—all this affection and interest.
    â€œBut it happened so…accidentally, I suppose you’d say. Pete was at a bit of a loose end. He was working a lot with the BBC but was getting restless. So his agent suggested—with a name like McCarthy and despite a very English upbringing—he should do a book on Ireland. She said—‘Just go and you’ll know what to write.’ And after he’d spent a few days here in Castletownbere, he suddenly knew what he wanted to do, and the book just sort of wrote itself. And he was so grateful—to us—to the whole place. And then—surprise, surprise!—he called us a year or so later and said ‘I’ve written a bit of a book about Irish bars…’ and I thought ‘Oh yeah…’
    â€œâ€˜What do you think about the title McCarthy’s Bar ?”
    â€œAnd I said ‘Sounds great…”
    â€œâ€˜Do you mind if I put your pub on the cover…’
    â€œAnd I said ‘No, that’s fine. Think it’ll sell a dozen or two…?’ and then it turned out to be a best seller. It was on the charts for over a year. But you kind of just take that on board. There’s no panic about it. It’s just nice that people can come and chat…I mean, we were here long before Pete made us famous and that’s what he liked. He even signed one of his books for me—‘To Adrienne, definitely the best bar in the world!’
    â€œIt’s so nice to have that. We both really clicked the way you do with some people…It all began when he first came here. It was my birthday, and he looked a bit low, so I said ‘Why don’t you come along?’ and we had a great time and he just kind of became part of the family. He was quite well known on the BBC doing travelogues, but we didn’t know any of that…and