Al Byrne
As I busy myself with preparation for an excursion to London for an interview with the lovely Amber Rubarth (here is my itinerary: day one shall be spent getting lost, mugged and settled; day two doing my journalism “thang”; day three missing my flight, and resignedly lying down on the unyielding London streets to await the frosty fingers of death) I chance to receive a text message from old friend Mairéad Kavanagh, informing me that…