Braywatch

'Rugby!' the late, great Father Fehily once said. 'Has anyone ever come up with a better idea?' My old man had been caught rigging a General Election. My old dear was about to become a seventy-year-old mother of six surrogate babies. And my daughter was talking about the coming climate apocalypse like it was the end of the world. Honor was hell-bent on saving the planet. But I wasn't sure it was even worth the effort. But then everything was turned upside-down by a daytrip to Bray of all places. There, I met a bunch of kids with weird, up-and-downy accents and a dream of Leinster Schools Senior Cup glory. And maybe it was sea air. But pretty soon I found myself falling hopelessly in love - with the town I loathed so well.