Himself wasn’t so sure. He hates festivals. “It’s just an excuse for putting pints in plastic glasses. And then they’re not even the full pints. The whole thing is a racket,” he says.

There’s always been some sort of a festival in Kilsudgeon. Usually, Dinny Sheehan is at the heart of it. It was only ever cancelled once because of the foot and mouth, and even then it took a court order to stop Dinny from doing it. If the Taliban themselves were camped out at the roundabout, Dinny would still have tried to put on a festival and maybe rope them in for the variety show.

No matter what the weather, he’ll be up on that flat-bed lorry doing the raffle.

I remember one year it was lashing rain and no one collected the prizes – the poor divil. I felt so sorry for him, so I just said I’d won and brought my ticket up even though it was the wrong one. I’ll never forget what he whispered to me.

“Rural Ireland is knackered Ann,” he said.

But he was always very dramatic. The place was packed the following year when the weather was nice. I still have that vase actually.

Things are a little better now that they’ve sponsorship from the broadband crowd, but how long that’ll last, I don’t know. This year it’s called Kilsudgeon Awakes: The Internet Gateway to the Atlantic Way Festival.

I don’t know how they got that title. Ciara who works in the shop says the internet only works in their house when they have the window open. And as for gateway to the Atlantic Way, they might as well call it gateway to Timbuktu, because it’s the same distance away.

The main attraction of the Kilsudgeon festival is always the beauty pageant, Miss Road Frontage. It used to be a bit of a Macra thing, but Dinny had a huge row with them and he went out on his own.

“Creative differences,” says Dinny to Himself. So the following year, there were two festivals – the Macra one and Dinny’s one, which people were calling the Continuity Macra, until half the organising committee on the Macra one went to Australia. Dinny’s is the only show in town now.

Poor Jennifer went in for Miss Road Frontage one year. I blame myself really. I told her it’d be good for her “to put herself out there”.

“Never again Mam. I don’t want anything to do with out there. I was scarred by the experience.”

She didn’t win. She thinks it was because during the interview when Dinny asked her if she had her eye on any of the escorts she told him that she didn’t need a man to complete her identity.

“You know the bit where they announced the winner and everyone rushed over for the hugs. I swear Mam, there were girls actually throwing digs in there.”

So I’ve no interest in Miss Road Frontage this year. We just walked around for a bit. I was just nosing around the farmers market. Four euro for jam! Himself wandered off. To see a man about a dog he says.

“To see a man about a pint more like it,” I said, but I let him off. He works hard enough.

And the next thing I hear laughing coming from the main stage and an announcement:

“AND OUR NEXT CONTESTANT IN THE ALPHA BALE COMPETITION IS ... YOU KNOW HIM WELL ... DENIS DEVINE!”

Oh the Lord save us! Himself! There he was in his oul vest flexing his muscles and acting the eejit.

“I want world peace Dinny,” he says in the interview and the crowd were falling over laughing.

And he won! He comes up to me afterwards all excited with his hotel voucher.

“There’s powerful stuff in them plastic glasses Ann,” he says.