1. Thinking of some old stories my brother - a musician - has told about playing pubs down the yrs. One night in Cork city at a regular spot he played, he saw the usual locals in place including one old guy supping his Murphy’s in the same spot as always at the bar.

2. Place got busy, old Seanie still there supping his pint. After an hour or so my brother noticed Seanie hadn’t touched his pint for ages. That’s normal, the barman said. He usually has a couple and stays all night.

3. Bar now jammed. Seanie is engulfed with people at the bar. Next thing someone leans on him, he keels over off the stool. Dead. Cue screams and panic. Brother stops playing. Ambulance called and Seanie is bagged and carted off.

4. It’s after 11. He’s due to play till 1230. My brother starts unplugging. Barman comes over. ‘I guess we’re done?’ says my brother. ‘Christ no!’ says the barman. ‘Drive on!’ The last song Seanie heard? The Walk of Life.