The DUBLIN Directory 2022

To me Dublin, you are Wigwam, Grogan’s, Bruxelles and The Woollen Mills. You are Kouign-Amanns at Sceál bakery, a small cap at Kaf and leafy Canal Bank Walks passed Paddy Kav. You are the angry PT at Flyefit, gigs at The Olympia and Vicar St, Hansard and Bono’s busking on Christmas Eve, and the pong of hops around St James’ Gate. You are randomly seeing Mattress Mick in Clontarf, and leaving him be, ‘cos that how us Dubs treat true celebrity. You are the Toucan at Christy Bird's in Portobello, impeccable double-decker bus manners, and Moore Street Grannies snarking at ya for pressin’ their pears and peaches. You are Phil Lynott’s sad romantic eyes, and his guitar neck stuffed with the picks of passers-by. You are Luke Kelly’s forlorn brogue, which falls like the rain that too often wets dishevelled cobbles beneath your feet, as you stroll to meet old friends in old buildings to tell old stories. You are the prettiest, albeit rarest, of the World’s blue skies, beneath which live its wittiest people. So come here to me Dublin, and listen. No, you are not dead, Nor are you some tacky holiday resort devoid of soul, character or livability. Sure, you are not without flaw, imperfection or a need for tweaks. But Dublin, be proud of what you were, and have become. Be proud of that world famous spirit. If you shout loud enough, people will start to listen; and soon, when the time is right, the fine people of these four provinces will want to experience it for themselves. In time, they will come to realise what the wider World has been discovering for decades. Dublin, you are just pure deadly. 9 COME HERE TO ME DUBLIN