I can’t escape the feeling that I spend a disproportionate amount of my time on this posting platform in apology for not posting enough. I fear that this might be another such occasion. However, I am not without my reasons/excuses. In the last 3 months I have changed jobs (yet again), moved to a new flat and gotten a respectable amount of travelling done – which I hope to find the time to write about soon. This weekend, I was back home in Ireland for a wedding, and though the nuptial festivities took place in Co Meath, we were afforded a quick stop-off in Dublin. It’s been nearly a decade since I was last in the capital and while I’ve no doubt that my luck has much improved since I rented a damp room in Dun Laoghaire village as a downtrodden graduate so many years ago, I’m not so sure that the same can be said of the fair city.
I had warned herself ahead of the trip that she’d be seeing quite an amount of privation in the city centre during our stay, but I really don’t think she quite grasped the seriousness of my tone. As much as my heart belongs to that spirited town on the banks of the Liffey, it is a grubby little corner of the world. Herself described the people around O’Connell Street as looking weathered and my brother’s father-in-law says they’re not far removed from the walking dead. Unfortunately, there is a great amount truth to what they both say. Getting off the the bus from the airport and heading into the tourist office to store our luggage for the afternoon, we were greeted by this fine citizen.
Nonetheless, we had our day in the city, including a stop to Davy Byrnes pub for a feed of seafood and a few pints of stout at lunch. We spotted an old pair sitting in a corner for lunch, she was a nun and he had a look of respectability to him. They must have both been well into there nineties. The waitress seemed on friendly terms with the two and after she had helped them to their taxi, we asked if they came here often.
“They’ve been coming here every single Friday afternoon at lunchtime for years.”
“And do you know the relationship? Are they brother and sister or something?”
“You know,” she answered. “I’ve never thought to ask.”
“It could be an illicit affair.”
“In this city,” she said in a ponder. “It certainly wouldn’t surprise me.”
There looks to be somewhat of a street art scene happening in The Pale and I was able to take a few pictures for you now.
You can now follow my increasingly strange adventures on Instagram here.
Fascinating. I haven’t been to Dublin in years but I guess it has the same issues as every other city these days- poverty, homelessness, drink and drugs. It’s a tragedy and such a waste.
I haven’t been back in 16 years, it was the same then and all the years previous when I hung around town as a teenager on Saturdays. But it looks like the vandalism has gotten better though. ?