Paddy O Brian -

What made Paddy extraordinary wasn’t his luck. It was his philosophy. He believed that most people went through life looking for the point of things, when they should be looking for the gaps . The gaps, he said, were where the music snuck in. The five minutes between rain showers. The pause before a laugh. The silent half-second when a lie turns back into a truth.

They found him one morning in his armchair by the window, a half-drunk cup of tea beside him, the radio playing a crackly tune from Galway. The coroner said heart failure. Everyone who knew Paddy said the same thing: his heart didn’t fail. It just decided it had told enough stories. Paddy O Brian

He’d been a sailor, a bricklayer, a horse trainer, and for two strange years in the 1980s, a DJ on a pirate radio station off the coast of Cork. None of it had made him rich. All of it had made him interesting . He claimed to have once talked a customs officer out of searching his van by reciting the first three verses of “The Ragman’s Ball” — and the officer had ended up buying him breakfast. What made Paddy extraordinary wasn’t his luck