Barry MacCarthy lunches with Trevor McGrath

HAVING beaten my way through the Dublin traffic, and allaying the nightmare of parking in the city centre, I arrive early in Fitzwilliam Square for my meeting with Barry MacCarthy, a shipping solicitor at McKeever Rowan. He is much younger than I expect.

We go to Pier 32, a restaurant just around the corner from Barry's offices. It is 1330hrs, and the restaurant doesn't appear crowded. The diners wear suits.

Pier 32 is a sign of Ireland's continuing popularity and association with all things cool. We are met at the door by the restaurant manager who invites us to sit in the back where it is dark, for privacy, or in the front with the other diners. We opt for the latter.

The waitress takes our orders, Barry orders the seafood chowder as a starter and sirloin steak for the main course. I opt for the supreme of chicken in mushrooms and shallots, which sounds delicious.

Barry has been with McKeever Rowan since May last year. It is his first job as a maritime lawyer in Dublin, and he has arrived there by a route as unconventional as any you can imagine. He doesn't have a law degree. He has a BA in history and philosophy from University College Cork and a Masters in history. He never intended doing law. "History always interested me," he says, "so I did it all through college. But when it came to a career, I chose law."

Barry's seafood chowder and the wine list appears.

Barry's father was a solicitor in private practice in County Cork, and he claims this was the main influence and reason he entered law. "It was the family business," he explains.

After teaching English in Copenhagen, and Paris, Barry decided it was time to begin seeking a serious job. "I took the CPE, common professional exam, in 1993-1994," he says. "Soon after, I began a training contract and worked for eighteen months at Stephenson Harwood's shipping department in London."

The wine list is unfurled, and - not being a wine buff - I let Barry order. He opts for the Chateau du Paradis' Saint Emilion Grand Cru. A bottle. I think about the drive home, and quickly decide that my fiancee can take the wheel.

Barry has just returned from holiday in the south-west of France. So we naturally discuss the wine."It is a great interest," he says. "My girlfriend and I went to the Dordogne this year trying to find Chateau MacCarthy - not a joke. Unfortunately, we stopped at a few other places on the way, and never actually made it past Bordeaux." Barry is unpretentious, and I like him.

The wine arrives, and is a rather nice red. Shortly after, the main course is put on the table. The chicken is tender, the vegetables are okay, except there are not enough potatoes. Minor quibbles. I'm enjoying the wine.

We turn back to business. "The job at Stephenson Harwood was my first involvement with the shipping industry," Barry explains. "I worked under some very experienced shipping lawyers in the shipping litigation department, and in the two years I spent there I learnt a great deal about maritime law."

At this point, there is a pause in the conversation. I look around and wonder what Pier 32 is trying to be. It is a semi-themed restaurant housed in the centre of Dublin. The nearest water is two miles away, and the fishing nets on the roof look like props from a scene from the 60s Batman series. My chair reminds me of some my granny has in her parlour, and I don't know what to make of the table.

At least I'm not bored. Barry is entertaining. He grew up in Skibbereen, West Cork, and is interested in hearing my stories from the county on the day they won the All-Ireland hurling final two days before our meeting. He laughs when I tell him about the broken lines in the middle of the road painted half-red. Red and white are the county's colours.

The food is good, the wine equally so, and the waitress is a good-looking girl. Irish. I'm surprised. Having been in Ireland for eight days, all the waiting staff have been English, Australian, or some other European extraction. According to another lawyer I met the previous week, the reason is that Ireland is so successful that the Irish get the better jobs.

Barry is looking to make a mark in Irish maritime law. He wants to set up a vibrant maritime practice at McKeever Rowan, and expand its ship finance and arrest business. So he is encouraged by recent government moves to promote the Irish shipping industry. "It is a form of inward investment. The spin-off for the firm will be more tonnage, more potential, and eventually more revenue," he says.

But Barry acknowledges that it may be difficult breaking into the existing market. "Other Dublin-based maritime lawyers are established names, with a pedigree. What we will do is build on the French connections we have, and try to compete with the Irish/French link, rather than directly against the massive UK or US markets," he explains.

Lunch is over far too quickly, and Barry pays in cash. Leaving the restaurant for the stroll back to St Stephen's Green, I wonder what it will be like to sit there now. Then I remember that I have to beat the rush to leave the city. Oh well. At least I'm not driving.