An old friend from Brussels came to visit last week. We offered him tea but having spent two days at meetings in Dublin, he uttered words to the effect of “God, no, please, no more tea.”
He is a very kind, gentle English man and as we took him around our neighbourhood he became visibly concerned for us. I pointed out the house nearby where there was a particularly nasty murder some years ago (now part of a derelict terrace). Earlier Mr. Waffle had taken him to a famous public building where he was able to enjoy those special lights in the toilets which stop people being able to see their veins (think about that for a minute there). We talked him through the history of nearby former penal institutions. He remained determinedly upbeat and said how these fine old Georgian structures could be very successfully re-developed citing an old prison in Oxford which is now a chic hotel. We took him to a local pub which is very, ahem, traditional. I think, however, something may have snapped when he nearly stepped on a surprisingly large dead rat which was frozen on its back in rigor mortis (or perhaps cold) with its little paws still in the air.
It’s lovely here really. Very urban.
