Joe was an Irish builder with a horseshoe moustache like Hulk Hogan. He wore denim, smoked like a chimney, and drank like a fish. Guinness, of course. My family used him for building work when I was a kid. He was a good guy. But he had a peculiar yet amusing habit of spluttering “die you old fucking bastard” after each cough. I thought of him as I sat in a sea of Irish accents in a Dublin pub. I love how travel accesses these memories.