I remember the first St Patricks Day I spent with my husband. It was in London and after spending a few hours trying to get into the packed pubs in West London, we went to a place called The Botwell. Rich went there as a young tacker with his parents. I loved our visits there. It was a club that had been around for a long time. It had an Irish band playing and a real family atmosphere. Kids everywhere, husbands and wives dancing cheek to cheek and cheap drinks. We had an awesome night.
Last night we went to a place called the Kingsley Tavern to meet my younger brothers girlfriends family (get that?) and it was like being transported back to 2004.
Liam was fascinated by the music. I took him to the dancefloor. It was carnage quite frankly. Prams everywhere, newborns sleeping (how I don't know) and Irish kids everywhere. He loved it. He stood mesmerised and then tried to copy the little girls who thought they were part of Riverdance.
It made me think of all the stories my husband told me about being a young kid and sliding across the dancefloor and putting the knee out of his trousers. The minute I thought of that, two young boys did exactly that.
It was so nice to go to a place that had a really family feel to it and I felt even prouder that Liam has the irish in him. He didn't want to leave that dance floor.
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