My Bloomsday: What I Love and Hate About Dublin
Ambling through the city yesterday gave me ample opportunity to ponder on the things that I love and hate about it.
I was walking the aimless hope of picking up a random book - a serendipitous find to make the day complete. From the Luas at St. Stephens’ Green right over the Liffey to O’Connell Street, I traveled across the concrete warrens.
First of all, I hate Paddy Bodhrán at the Molly Malone Statue, in all of his winking tweeness and diddle-i-eye-di-dom. In his recycled Daffodil colours in the day of blooms. Beating away at the self-respect of the land on his plastic drum, while travelling cameras go flish-flash.
I hate people who refuse to queue. The ignorant who feign insider knowledge that 98% of the rest of the population somehow ascribe to. Those that abuse their societal positions as an excuse to break those graces that glue our economic machine at bus stops and stores. Just because you are old, young, Jackeen, Culchie, foreign or Irish - don’t expect special treatment.
I love stopping by Fallon & Byrne by George’s Street to gape at the il-daite fruits and Eastern delights. I hate the Fallon & Byrne set - all cinnamon cappochinos, Ugg boots and metrosexual fashion. I hate the Old Money manners. I hate New Money desperately searching for fulfilment in Miso paste. Where the rest of us just browse for that piece of the world where we want to travel tonight - call it our discount break abroad.
I love the open air cafes in the city, all open-petaled by 9am and dry-roasted. I hate the fact they shut at 7 and spew us frustrated customers onto street. All frenzied, hunting for another spot to stop and think.
A short browse round Tower records and a quick taxi ride later, I was home. Easily ensconced on the couch with Em watching Big Brother. Joy to Bloomsday.