Something has shifted when it is no longer men monitoring my bottom or policing my clothes, but other women. Photograph: Getty Images
It should have been a happy occasion. I was going jewellery shopping with someone else’s wallet.
I had delayed picking out a present for months until my boyfriend and I could patronise my favourite antique jewellery stores in Dublin.
They had enjoyed a short reprieve from the greasy stains of my nose print on their glass windows since I’d been in Australia. But I was back, with the slightly nervous man I love and his bank card.
We took a photo to remember the moment, the sum of months of waiting to finally be back on South William Street, smelling the siren’s call of Grogan’s toas
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