09-05-2025
From indie dancefloors to massages: a Noughties night owl at Pine Cliffs, Portugal
There was a time — long before oat milk, step counts and discussions about gut health — when my weekends were spent in indie clubs with sticky floors and questionable lighting. I was a Noughties hot mess in skinny jeans, band T-shirts, faux-fur coats and smudged eyeliner, fuelled by vodka, Diet Coke and supermarket sushi.
At the heart of the madness was Fidelma Deignan, my best friend at secondary school. My ride-or-die partner in crime for chasing gigs in dive bars and boys in bands and navigating taxis home at dawn. Fast-forward to our forties and our social lives have undergone something of a rebrand. These days we mostly check in on each other via our chaotic fitness and wellness WhatsApp group — a continuing
