Dublin Kerry was always the Golden ticket when I was growing up. My father would go out looking dapper in his slacks, sports jacket, shirt and tie and Chelsea boots. The coming home was a different story, with the tie in his pocket, the jacket tied round his tiny waist, and a torn navy- and sky-blue paper hat on the side of his head, and the ends of a Kerry one shaped into an origami-like rude figure (the da always had a creative side).
