22nd june 2004
wondering 0 rocks
Your correspondent skimmed on a
flivver into Dub and was in the thick
of things by 9 am. Weather was good
value, seaborne clouds, awnings,
pineapple light and vanilla airs all doing their stuff. First to the tower
where a Boylan sat among the
throng on the gunrest; then a paddle
on Sandymount beach; then a
scamper into town for lunch. The crowd in Davy Byrne's was fierce: the smell of gorgonzola was so thick you could've run mice across it. I'm not sure how Bloom survived without
a drink until his cider in the Ormond:
half an hour after the cheese, the mustard and the wine I was parched and needed a pint. And the Ormond, after a walk on the quays, was a bit of a
shock: The Ormond Quay Hotel and
Conference Centre, it said. And the bar?
The Sirens Lounge. No bronze by gold. No go. Even the dedicated dressers-up had their drinks outside in the street. Then a foxed attempt to go to Howth, trains had died; a guard announced the fact to a few hundred sweating commuters and added Don't worry - yez'll all get home - somehow.
A grand day out - and the city was so easily recognized, so familiar after all the years even under its tinted glass and euros.
Hush! Caution! Echoland!
