Unwaveringly a local pub in the heart of the Dingle, the Anglesea is a friendly corner ale-shed with a fair selection of drinks and a customer base who probably all live within two hundred feet of the bar. To them, I was practically a foreigner. This is one of those pubs where the music pumping out the speakers completely fails to match the kind of people who go there. These were some of the oldest drinkers I’ve ever seen, all bulbous, veined noses, threadbare flat caps and gnarled hands. Yet they were sat amid the swirling wails of Cyndi Lauper and Kate Bush. Still, the pub wasn’t as rough as I expected, I left in one piece, so kudos to you.