Earlier this week, I was unlocking my bike and preparing to go home at eleven o'clock at night; I had been spending the evening teaching maths all over Dublin. Behind me, the shop where I had just bought a banana was closing up for the night. The Chinese employee was standing out the door, shaking the mats and preparing to bring them inside.

Some local, sporting a beard that looks like it has just risen up in flaming insurrection, the kind of facial takeover you just don't see anymore in these days of goatees and designer stubble, rambled out of the adjacent pub and unlocked his car. "Ni hau!", he called out to the Chinese shaking his mats.

"Conas atá tú?", replied the shop assistant. This has evidently been going on for a while between them, each speaking the other's language.

Not too bad. Bloody freezing, isn't it?, said the local as he unlocked the car.

"It's pretty cold alright. Slán", said the assistant as he took his mats inside and the car drove off.