Dublin

We were never going to do Dublin justice in just two days. It’s a fantastic city. But why would you spend your time in the pubs or sight-seeing when you could spend all your time here:

General Register Office – Research Rooms

We were looking for any trace of my great-great-grandparents.   I tried to get Mum to ask the genealogist where they are living, but Mum wasn’t playing.  The genealogist was amazing and had a real passion for history.  She spoke at length about the Irish who went to Australia, about Celtic spirituality and Irish Catholicism. I kept expecting her to burst from her seat and dance around quickly while not moving her arms.  She didn’t.

We found some of the information Mum was after, but not everything.  Another trip methinks.

It occurred to me that I know next to nothing about Ireland’s history – watching Far and Away does not count. So I took myself to a bookshop. There was a big selection of Irish history books, and on further inspection, they could have all been subtitled And Then Lots of People Died. I just wasn’t in the mood to slash my wrists, so the history section would have to wait.  Maybe I’d read some Irish literature instead.

I went and found James Joyce’ Ulysess.

Hmmmm. That’s a big book. 
(Attempts to read random paragraph. Stops. Attempts to read random paragraph again.)
What the f…? 
(Consider buying book because it would make me look clever. Realise this is an Act of Dickhead. Puts book back, telling myself I am doing so purely because it’s too heavy for my bag.)
It’s too heavy for my bag.  

So I went and found the Marian Keyes books – which are technically also Irish literature.

If any of you happen to have seen a woman dressed for Arctic conditions singing Cockles and Mussels, Alive Alive-Oh by the Molly Malone statue on Wednesday night, that was me.  It wasn’t my choice.  Mum didn’t know who she was and asked me to do it, and I love my Mum.  So I apologise.

Hey, want to know what gluttony looks like?  Of course you do.  Check out my pub roast:

In fact I had the best steak I’d had forever at The Winding Stair.  And while on the subject of food, our sight-seeing was rudely interrupted by The Queen of Tarts in Temple Bar.  Tanks a million.

Ah right so.

 

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