I told her I was trying to raise some funds for Cystic Fibrosis Ireland by doing a sponsored jump off the forty foot and Victoria said she would take part.

The next day she texted me to say Shane would take part by cycling his bike into the sea for charity.

I was more than a little sceptical he was ever going to do that, but the idea gained so much publicity for the cause that pursuing it was irresistible.

The following Sunday, I was at their house in Donnybrook in south Dublin to collect them in my little VW Polo.

Shane answered the door and let me in.

It was the first time I met him, and he was nothing like the hellraiser I was expecting. Instead, he was a very down-to-earth person who was quite shy and gentle.

Although it was a scorching hot day, he was wearing a shiny wine-coloured suit jacket with a shirt and tie and a pair of jeans.

He was very easy to get along with, and it was clear he would chat to anyone. His voice was slow and slurred, but he was razor sharp with his answers—nothing got past him.

He loved the countryside, he said, but added how disappointed he was that we don’t “salute each other anymore”. He continued: “I feel the closeness we once had as a nation is slowly dwindling.” 

“Do you remember we used to say hello to everyone we’d meet on the street? We don’t do that so much anymore. But if you go down the country, folk still tip their hats to you”.

I had known from the first minute it wouldn't be a quick in and out in the sea, but the day became increasingly surreal when, en-route to the forty foot, Victoria suggested calling to Enya’s Killiney home to invite her.

I pulled up at gates of the notoriously shy star's miniature castle and Shane rang the doorbell a few times.

When there was no answer, he tried to scale the wall.

“Come on Enya,” he shouted. “We want you to come swimming with us”.

In the end he accepted the multi-Grammy winner was not coming out and we left.

On the way to Sandycove, we saw film-maker Jim Sheridan outside his then home.

Naturally, we stopped and asked him to come with us. 

Victoria jumped into his Mercedes, but Shane and I lost them on the way. Not being from Dublin, I hadn’t a clue where I was going and asked Shane if he knew.

“No, I haven’t a clue either,” he laughed.

A garda car passed by so we asked them for directions.

They looked into the back of my car.

“Hello Mr MacGowan,” said the Garda. “Are you lost?” 

 “Yes, we are Garda would you mind giving us a hand we’re trying to get to the forty foot,” he replied.

After a detour around Killiney and Dalkey following the guards, we finally made it to the forty foot, where Shane happily posed for a photo with them.

As we walked to the beach, Shane stopped off to buy ice-creams but was soon engulfed by photographers.

Needless to say, he didn’t get into the water.

We spent the day by the sea eating ice creams and singing. I didn’t want to let him go without asking him about his song, Fairytale of New York.

“It was awful when Kirsty (McColl) died, she added so much magic to that song,” he said.

“I’m really glad that I’ve got a song alongside The Fields of Athenry and more importantly, I’m still alive and can enjoy hearing it”.

I met Shane many times after that, and attended some of his gigs with Victoria, but that day stands out as a magical one.

We spoke about all sorts of things on our quest to find the forty foot, including death.

“I don’t know what I was in a previous life,” he said. “I just think we’re slipping in and out of dimensions. There’s just so much we still have to learn about.

“What I am sure about though is I’m not leaving any time soon. And I wouldn’t mind being cloned while I’m still here.”