This really is the town of the Seagulls’ shires. They caw harshly across the dark, squalling through the night as I make my way in. As they squawk, I write. I came down late, in my so-called wisdom – a rascal with a date. Reluctant about the whole business; my observer mode filtering everything, making me just another flawed participant like all the rest. A neat skirt crossed the street and beckoned me in. If she’s late, I’m only a bit latte, so to speak – coffee reference. I was expecting tea. Signing-in sheet; formal and conformal now, every place demands it. I sharpened up and took a back seat. Minutes later it was clear I wasn’t last – a slow, begrudging trickle. Amazingly every seat filled exactly; they had predicted the attendance to the last chair. A young lad claimed the final one, shrill with that youthful spellbound look, eyes glued to his phone. I half-admired his reckless carry-on; no other nineteen-year-old boys bothered showing. I scribbled my name – asked if they could read the mess – then the lights dropped and I felt my way to the back, one of three still going begging. It looks promising enough, this local radio for Balbriggan. The funding talk bored me rigid though – brackets and knots, not my thing at all. From the back I scanned the shapes and faces; most unknown. Odd, that – this town is supposed to be me. Jack was there, no surprise, man about the place and a DJ. AI made a fixture of itself; in a dry-wit way I was a feature too, drawn by the notion of local LLMs fed only on the parish soil. Kevob stuck his head above the parapet. A guffaw went up as he stood, wedged between the baby-boomers who walled him in. In bad luck he was behind the two tallest in the room; tall, burly, broad-shouldered himself, explaining away before them bodies in age more expressive than him. You don’t get the good seats when you arrive late – not when the local TD, Louise O’Reilly, has the good sense and the scope to arrive on time. Then I, Kevob, departed shyly. I had wanted to contribute more; I looked around, doubts crowding in hard. I stared into the space – some stood, some sat, others clustered like otters (if that creature even does that – probably not), just words that sound like others. But if you could watch me try to express myself, the shyest of the whole lot. I sat down shakily as quickly as I had stood. An imposter.