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Dublin

A Tale of Two Cities

24 September, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Dublin won the All-Ireland football final a couple of weeks ago.

This is what the north side of the city looked like:

003

The south side of the city looked just the same, except there was no bunting. All of Dublin’s inner suburbs were built by people who liked things to match.

The north of the city is GAA heartland. The south, not so much. A friend of mine went, along with thousands of others, to see the Dubliners show off the Sam Maguire cup. The master of ceremonies asked the crowd, “Is there anybody here from Raheny (north city)? The crowd went wild. “Is there anyone here from Dalkey (distant southern suburb)?” Complete silence, this despite the fact that one of the squad is actually from Dalkey.

While not wishing to single out Dalkey for punishment – it is a perfect pleasant place – I must tell you about the ad for “exclusive luxury homes in Dalkey” in the paper the other day. Among the benefits which the developers claim is that “it would be difficult to find a more appealing address”. They also point out that “There is no social and affordable housing within the development”. Do you think that I’m making this up?

Some Confusion

21 September, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

The Princess and I went to visit St. Patrick’s cathedral at the weekend. Dublin’s best cathedral, since you’re asking.

Famously, Jonathan Swift was Dean of the cathedral. I said to herself, “I’ll give you 50 cents to spend (in the appallingly tacky shop which sits beside the Boyle monument -features statue of the grandfather of chemistry), if you find me a bust of Dean Swift.” Moments later, she came flying back to me, “I haven’t found Dean Swift, but can I have 25 cents for finding Jonathan Swift?”

First World Problem Wednesday

13 July, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess

I interrupt my detailed day by day description of our holiday in Kerry to offer the following two problems for your sympathy:

1. Herself had an appointment with the dental hygienist a couple of months ago which, unprecedentedly, we forgot. They phoned us, we grovelled. We re-set a suitable date. It was yesterday. Did I remember to take her? Alas, no. Even though Mr. Waffle’s last words before leaving the country (for work, not anything more sinister) were, “Don’t forget the dentist.” My mortification knows no bounds.

2. Our new childminder who hasn’t started yet but who was perfect because
a) the children liked her;
b) she has lived in Ireland for a long time and is unlikely to leave in the middle of the year;
c) she was doing a course (childcare) in the mornings which allowed her to keep her benefits, if she worked fewer than 20 hours a week so had every incentive to stay
has texted to say that her course hours have changed and she can no longer work for us. I could weep. This, of course, is Nemesis in action as only yesterday I said breezily to the new father up the road, that finding a childminder would be no problem. And, also, I had told everyone how terrific this was going to be. I think that this is the first person who has left before she started. Back to the drawing board.

Oh yes, and Irish bonds have been downgraded to junk. It’s always worrying when your personal credit status is better than your country’s.

Updated to add: Also, we have woodworm.

Ask the Internet

28 June, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Email to seed vendor:

Hi,

I bought your suburban garden seed pack and something is flourishing in my back garden. Unfortunately, I lost the packet and I have no idea what it is. Do I dig up the root and boil it or put vinaigrette on the leaves, or is it some kind of cabbage? I attach some photos and would really appreciate your advice.

Thanks very much.

Picture accompanying image:

info@irishseedsavers.ie 001

Google image search unhelpfully offered this.

In fairness to the seed people, they got back to me:

Sorry to have taken awhile getting back to you, I have showed your photos to a few of the guys here, and we are all under the impression that it may be a cauliflower or cabbage, but whatever it is you should thin it out and leave to it grow a bit longer. I’m sure you can eat the leaves lightly steamed would be good, if there looks to be a good root growing it may be a swede or turnip. Sorry I can’t be of more help and we don’t have any set of seed we give out in those starter packs just easy to grow varieties.

good eating
All the best

But I don’t think it looks like any cauliflower or cabbage I have ever seen, although I take the point about thinning. Any ideas? I’m looking at you townmouse.

A Broad Church

26 June, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Our local church has an annual trip to a outdoor play area for children and their parents. It was held yesterday and, as we sat there in the drizzle, getting sunburnt (welcome to the Irish summer), I was chatting to another mother about what secondary schools our children might go to – a topic that fills me with gloom and dread as I continue to do nothing about it.

Her: What about school x?
Me: Mmm, not sure.
Her: You’re probably too late anyhow, unless you’re Church of Ireland?
Me: For heaven’s sake, of course I’m not C of I, we’re on the [catholic] church outing.
Her: Actually, I am C of I.
Me: But you go to mass every Sunday.
Her: Yes. Well, it’s a trek to a C of I church.
Me: And your daughter’s an altar girl.
Her: Yes.
Me: In fact, I thought you were a particularly devout Catholic.
Her: Well, I am devout, I’m just not picky.

Dragging the Devil by the Tail or A Sad Litany of Failure

24 June, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Work

OK, this happened months ago but the pain is still fresh. I appreciate the post is stale.

12.00 – Go to meeting.
17.00 – Meeting ends. Return to office to find all kinds of urgent messages. Urgent, urgent, urgent matter must be attended to. Ring husband to say I will be late home. Find text message from him that he is in a meeting and can I be home to relieve the babysitter. Tackle urgent matter at great speed.
18.00 – Urgent matter dispatched in record time while eating lunch. Go multi-tasking [faintly Bridget Jonesish] me.
18.05 – Hop on Dublin bike.
18.20 – 18.45 Cycle around looking for a rack to park my bike. Fail to find one.
18.50 – Arrive home. Stash bicycle in the back garden. Husband is there before me, face like thunder.
19.00 – Announce I will cancel dinner out. Am told not to. Slink out in disgrace.
23.00 – Decide not to drive around city looking for place to stash Dublin bike.
9.00 – Regret previous evening’s decision on discovering that charges for keeping the bike overnight are astronomical. Alas.

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