My Greystones: Liam Doyle

Tidy

e turned 93 last Sunday, and Liam Doyle has lost none of his infamous lust for life. You’ll still always find him in the kitchen at parties.

Usually working on some devilish new cocktail.

There’s only one other man out there with a similar outlook on life and death-mocking genetic make-up – and so, we had to ask Liam if he was anywhere near, in or about Doris Richards of Dartford, Kent, back in March 1943 – because, nine months later, she gave birth to a bouncing, blues-loving baby boy, Keith.

If there’s ever a nuclear apocalpyse, the planet will be left with just cockroaches, Joe Sweeney’s chipper, Keith Richards and Liam Doyle. Which should make for a pretty interesting after-party.

Yep, Liam Doyle has been tripping the light fantastic ever since the dust had just about settled on World War One – give or take the very odd lost weekend – from his years as a sailor on the high seas, travelling the world, to his psychedelic love-in down and out in San Francisco with his longtime partner-in-grime, Tilly, moving to Greystones to run a nursing home on Killincarrig Road, followed by the hackney cab years, to his current role as private chauffeur to his deadbeat son. Of course, the way Doyle Snr drives, chances are, when he finally does see the light at the end of the tunnel, it will be a train.

Yep, Liam Doyle is a spiritual leader, a casual lawbreaker and a true medical wonder.

I bet his pacemaker goes all the way up to 11.