12 October 2012
Dublin
West from Mellows Bridge
October 11, 2012
East from O’Connell Street Bridge
October 9, 2012
Riverrun
I saw this talk about the Liffey on youtube and I thought that it was fantastic. If you live in Dublin, you should watch it too.
I love rivers in cities. In Brussels, they covered up the river in the 19th century. I really missed living in a city with a river. My husband always says that Dublin turns its back on the river and he’s right. I cross over the Liffey most days and I almost always pause to look up and down the river. And now I’m going to take a photograph every time.
Letting Go – A Bit
The Princess got the bus home from school alone the other day. She managed it without difficulty. And she was absolutely delighted with herself.
When I was her age, I was frankly not delighted to get the bus home from school as it was a dreary part of my routine [not so much the bus ride really but waiting forever for it to arrive]. But when I was her age there were a gang of unaccompanied children getting the bus home every day. Furthermore, on my bus route the chances of meeting alcoholics or strung out junkies was close to nil. Her bus route on the other hand does offer these options from time to time. On the other hand, people are kind and she is sensible. I asked whether anyone spoke to her. “Yes,” she said, “the bus driver asked me whether I was on my own and a nice woman talked to me when I sat down upstairs.” What you might expect really.
This daring action was inspired by Mr. Waffle who felt (correctly) that she was well able for it and I was sustained by thoughts of this woman who described her child as being “ecstatic with independence” after riding the New York subway. Well, that’s how my girl felt too though I don’t think that she’s ready to tackle the NY subway just yet.
Thank You for Pushing my Boundaries
That’s what my husband said to me in tones of mild bitterness earlier this evening. We went to see “The Boys of Foley Street” in the Dublin Theatre Festival. It was very hard to get tickets. This difficulty was explained when the tickets arrived with an explanatory note that there were only four audience members for each show. I was unnerved. Mr. Waffle said acidly, “I bet there’s going to be audience participation.” He was right.
Then I got this email:
Dear Anne,
Thank you for your recent booking of tickets to The Boys of Foley Street as part of Dublin Theatre Festival.
I am getting in touch with you now to let you know that since you made the booking we have learned that the production contains scenes of sexual violence. As this is a new piece and constantly evolving, we were not aware of this at the time of your booking. We want our audiences to enjoy every Festival show they attend and we felt it was important to update you so that you would have all the information available on the production.
We advise that The Boys of Foley Street is not suitable for patrons under 16 years of age, and that the production contains material that some may find disturbing.
Should you have any queries or concerns on the content of this material I would be happy to discuss these further with you.
Kind regards,
Box Office Manager
Dublin Theatre Festival
I have to say that my enthusiasm levels hit record lows. As Mr. Waffle and I trudged through the rain to the venue, I feared the worst. We were led to a car across the road and told to sit in. This documentary was playing on the radio. An alarming looking tramp with a bottle of cider under his arm came and knocked at the car window. Actor or local? Hard to tell but I suppose that this was part of the attraction. I rolled down the car window cautiously. He began to ramble but he seemed more likely to be an actor.
Then we were driven around this very depressed part of the city to a housing estate like this only not as pleasant. There were some locals drinking in a huddle in the corner (not actors) and we went into one of the flats where, alas, we were separated. The actors (lots of them) acted very dysfunctional lives just for you – all by yourself. It was really cleverly done, though intimidating. That was kind of the point, I suppose. I did find myself looking at the actors’ teeth showing fine orthodontic work and saying mentally, these people are not really alarming, violent, alcoholics. No they’re not.
I used the same technique in a back alley while a drug dealer was beaten up and I was holding the IRA man’s coat. [I subsequently found a picture of the actor on the internet drinking prosecco with his friends. My conscience is clear] Mr. Waffle was in a shed sitting in an old car while a dead body slid up and down the roof. Frankly, I wouldn’t have minded having him to hand as that would have stopped the actor playing the alarming tramp giving me a kiss (peck on the cheek, but still) because I was his girlfriend. We finished up in a meeting room where pushers were being denounced having been brought there by Macker the reassuring IRA man. When he left, we noticed that our pictures were on the walls. Possibly because we were on “the list”.
Still and all, highly recommended; there are no dull bits.
