So, now that I'm down a daily six-mile return cycle and the camaraderie of Curly and my fellow workers, I've been cycling everywhere that needs going to, taking meetings for work and meeting friends for pints and cake after hours. But lunches have been spent power-walking around the neighb wearing some spectacularly ugly shoes. I can't run, because I have a kneecap that doesn't like where God chose to put it in His infinite wisdom, and so takes every opportunity to go visiting around the inside of my shin. So power-walking it is.
More to the point, as this is all achingly bougy, the neighbourhood is fantastic. Ours is a beautiful street covered in flowerboxes and a nice mix of Dubs, Nice Young Couples, immigrants and foreign students. Somehow, you know you're in a good part of town when there are lots of French women around. They have standards, you know? We're also near the mental asylum, so there are a good few middle-aged transvestite drug users, edgy-looking young men and the odd young woman chatting to herself who come and go as day patients. Helps to keep you on your toes.
There's all sorts of good things to do and see, arthouse cinema, foodie shops, nice little restaurants and the biggest park in Europe right up the road. All this a few blocks from the river and with views of the mountains to boot. The mountains are a new thing for me, as Dublin was always all about the sea for me.
2 comments:
Sounds like you landed on your feet in a very ambulatory way.
This is good.
I may need to visit! In fact I will, if it suits. I'll be about the Dirty Old Town at some stage in the week of July 28th for round two of 'Who Wants to be a Diplomataire'. Randomness the lot of it.
K
yay that the tag is going to be doing round two of diplomataire and yay to you for stomping in the 'batter. i tell ya, it aint called powerwalking, it called stomping.
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