Hissy fit
I hate cities.
When I was a kid, I used to love taking a trip into Dublin.
I used to love wandering around Grafton Street basking in the smell of freshly roast coffee beans from Bewleys. Invariably there was that unique smell of roasting hops wafting down from St James’ Gate where they were brewing the Guinness. That smell epitomised Dublin for me. Maybe that’s where I got the taste for the stuff?
Another place I used to haunt was the quays. I loved watching the cranes at work unloading the ships and barges. There were always coal ships being unloaded so everything got covered in a fine layer of black dust. There were the massive Guinness kegs [Guinness again!] being loaded for export. There was always a bustle on the quays; a sense of foreign intrigue and mystery.
All that is gone now.
I had to go into the city yesterday. Apart from the Blog Awards last year [which don’t count because they were a night time affair] it’s about six years since I was there. I would have been happy to leave it for another twenty years, but I was overtaken by circumstances.
First of all, I had to get the DART in.
The DART is a train full of clichés.
They were all there.
Firstly there was the tosser who insisted on sitting beside me as if it was the last seat. He was a tosser because he had one of those fucking music things that went ‘tiss tiss tiss’ all the way.
Then there was the Mobile Phone User. This was a woman across from me who had her ring tone on full volume. The phone rang three times. Each time she yelled ‘HELLO HELLO HELLO’ into the phone before cutting off the caller. She then called the caller back and gave her a running commentary at the top of her voice for the rest of the journey.
There was of course the DORT user. This is the person with the D4 accent who thinks she is God’s gift to men. In fact she was a right slapper. She made the mandatory phone call to her pal to tell her she was on the DORT and would be soooo late, and could they meet in Ornotts?
We arrived more or less on time, and I then had to walk.
I noticed several things straight away.
Is it a rule that everyone has to carry a paper cup of coffee? It seems to be.
Is it a law that everyone has to have earphones?
Where the hell did all the beggars come from? They too were collecting in paper coffee cups. Whoever makes those cups is laughing all the way to the bank [assuming it hasn’t gone bankrupt]. Actually, don’t answer that last question. I know the answer – Eastern Europe. Every lamppost seemed to have its own resident, slumped at the bottom, holding out a dirty cup.
The city is dirty, noisy and so full of traffic that it’s damned dangerous trying to cross any road.
I hate it with a passion.
Next time I have to go into the city, I’m going to throw a hissy fit. I’m going to grab onto the door frame and refuse to let go.
From now on, I’m keeping to the mountains.
The dirt and smell and the expense are my experience when I have to go to Dublin: I’ll be there again on the weekend of the 18th for a conference. Yay, another ludicrously expensive crap hotel room with its bits falling off, with noise from the traffic outside, noise from fellow inmates, and noise from the ventilation system because it’s too dangerous to simply open a window as we do at home. How can you sleep?
Saint Stephen’s Green is sometimes a refuge, but then you have to watch out for being body-slammed by joggers and rollerbladers, and you can’t get a bench to sit on because of homeless people, left-behind bags of trash, gangs of teenagers, and pairs of the shameless getting it on in full view of the world. Footpath poo is a whole ‘nother topic.
The best part of visiting the city — or any city — is that going home is bliss.
Nobody told you of the updated city survival kit?:
Ear phones on full
Loud ringtone you can ignore when it rings
Mortgage application for said coffee cup, the re-mortgage is needed to fill it with something
A world languages translator to tell the pick n mix nationalities of beggars to fuck off
Dublin sucks donkey balls. Why don’t I move? Laziness.
I hate the fact that every second establishment is either a Londis or an English or US franchise of a name that runs high profits in place of good products or service.
I hate that Moore street is disappearing. Although the freaky old lady that sells fish off a bread board is still there with her fly family.
Fuck it, fold out the futon Grandad, I’m kipping at yours!
Susan – The Green is about the only haven in a nightymare. What are they going to do? They are going to rip it up so they can build their precious Metro!! I agree about going home though….
Maxi – If you had known the Dublin of fifty years ago, you’d be even more depressed. The futon is folded out, and the kettle is on.
Have you heard Jinx Lennon’s city of styrofoam cups?
http://www.septictigerrecords.com/music/city-styrofoam-cups
I pissed around for years, was a dead loss,
I ended up in a place called Fas learning about fork lifts and inventory.
On the last day the instructors told us they’d take us out for a feed of drink.
“You’re on the brink of success” they said “now lads” in a patronising voice.
I knew I was going to be back in hole yeah, back on the dole yeah,
I turned the keys in the ignition.
It was a beautiful blue and yellow winter’s evening
I went up to the city of Styrofoam cups yeah
I do agree that Dublin seems to have a lot more beggars. It’s somewhere that I try to avoid now, seeking refuge in galleries, the IFI and certain coffee shops that I know the “element” won’t be in. Truth be told, I feel far safer these days walking down quiet streets on the North side rather than the bustling, unfriendly rushed rat-run that is Grafton Street.
You’re right in saying we’ve lost a lot in the last 50 years. Gained some, but the personality and the soul is gone. It’s hiding in fear of the construction sites, afraid to have any more of its heart torn out.
On Monday I started back in work, with my earphones in to avoid having to listen to idiots on the bus.
I picked up a coffee in McCabes of Townsend Street and walked the three minutes to work.
I felt a little bit dirty, and feel worse again now, because you’re right Grandad – too many chickenheads clucking inanities and not enough of a soul. It’s why I make a beeline for Bowe’s pub at every available opportunity. Dublin still lives there at least.
John – So I’m not the only one to notice all those damned cups? 🙂
Darragh – Frankly, I don’t think Dublin has gained very much. The Dart is an improvement, but they have destroyed the soul of the city. Joyce must be rolling in his grave!
Radge – Mulligans? That used to be one of my main haunts.
All I know about Dublin, is that it is excruciatingly expensive! So, it seems the Irish have caught onto the American ‘Starbucks’ cup holding thing? It is not hip to be seen without a cup in your hand and an ipod headphone in your ears. One, it means you are important and busy. 2. It means you don’t have to make eye contact or conversation with anyone like in the good old days. I can never understand those who insist on having conversations on their cell phones for the whole world to hear. I know I would hate everyone to know my business. (or lack thereof..) Ah, you’re lucky you live in the mountains Grandad.
I live in the middle of the American suburbs where petite women drive suv’s bigger than themselves with the cell phone in one hand, the cup in the other and the children driving for them! Seems like it’s a small world after all? 🙂
I lived in Dublin for 20 years until I was forced by circumstance to move elsewhere – Kildare, and now Monaghan.
Whenever I visit Dublin now I feel depressed. the city is gray, dirty and loud. Not as dirty as Armagh, but much louder and unfriendly.
There are too many people – how are you supposed to get to know anyone if 1) you’re unlikely to come across them again in that crazy rush or 2) they’re always wearing headphones as if they’re just too busy to calm down and sit for a minute…
I’m glad Monaghan is not as bad as that yet. I’d move back to the countryside in a moment if I could, though – there’s nothing quite like being able to sit and think without being bowled over by some mad townie.
Everything changes. All the time.
Bunch o moaners. Dublin is a great city!!!
It’s 21st century society that’s giving ye all hissy fits by the sound of it.
Its happening everywhere I’m afraid – I remember Dublin 50 years ago, in fact I have many slides taken during all of holidays when we went ‘home’.
What you have described is nothing like I remember but it doesn’t surprise me – cities the world over have been taken over by aliens with their shiny buildings and loss of our heritage.
Stay in your mountains until they find them too!!!!
Tricia – I’m completely at a loss to understand this business of walking around with drinks all the time. Is the entire population suddenly very thirsty? Another thing in this crazy world that has me baffled.
Kae – That was another thing I noticed – no one was standing looking at anything. They were all on the verge of running. It was a mad mayhem of dashing and running. Mind you, there is feck all left to look at!
TT – You don’t change?
Spaghetti – You obviously are too young to remember the ‘old city’. It has become a kip with its walls of glass instead of the old red brick buildings. As for that Spire thing…….. *sigh*
Kate – They are finding the mountains. I have written about it in the past. They are doing their damndest to turn old villages into new suburbs. They want street lights, and road names. They want footpaths instead of grassy banks. Worst of all, they want to swamp the villages with housing developments.
Mulligans indeed, found myself lowering stout there only last week.
The only problem it’s become a bit of a tourist and/or suit magnet, but once avoided on a Friday evening it’s still near the top of the pile.
Earphones are nonsense. Read a book on the bus, you’ll be much happier.
I’ve taken a post-work DART once in my life. Never again.
Radge – Mulligans used to be a great place for the Irish and Evening Press lot. Another one that has gone to the dogs?
Emordino – Personally, I am quite content to stare out the window in quiet contemplation. The contemplation usually involves nail scissors and ear-phone leads though.
The contemplation usually involves nail scissors and ear-phone leads though.
Have to tell you, if you ever had the misfortune of sitting beside me AND being bothered by my earphones and so snipping them but NOT asking me to turn it down or anything beforehand, I’d be fit to kill you. In fact I probably would. My defence? The voices in my ears no longer telling me that it was all okay, that they are all good people, that I can control my anger, that the world is a lovely place…
Surely that’s a reasonable defence? Listening to anything but bus conversations, whining babies, skangers, muppets and D4 gurls saying “yah” all the time has to be an acceptable form of therapy. It should be made obligatory.
…….ah you’re back so! when were you gonna tell me… gotta find out through @rickoshea… and where’s my postcard, stick of rock, t-shirt
git!
missed ye!
slán
p.
now I understand why you have the semtex!!!!
Please educate me (hey, I’m Canadian!) ….can I ask what is “D4”?
Darragh – Do you not get the voices in your head without earphones? As for asking you to turn it down – me mammy told me never to talk to strangers.
Peter – Did you not get the hamper? I’m surprised. I paid enough for it.
Kate – Yup! 😈
Shannon – Ah! D4 is Dublin 4 postal district. It is renowned for its embassies, expensive housing and snobby inhabitants. The offspring somehow developed their own accent in the last couple of decades. The D4 accent is a pretentious drawl that is excruciatingly painful on the ears. It’s also know as the Dorsh accent as the DART [Dublin Area Rapid Transit] runs through D4, but the accent makes it into ‘Dorsh’. A rough guide to some of the accent!
I love cities for short periods of time but it’s always nice to get home and wash off the grime. I’d be lost without my iPod on public transport. Plug, in, tune out. I don’t want to make eye contact or have a conversation with strangers on a bus (I don’t do trains)
I have to say I think it’s because I don’t live there full time, I quite enjoy a wander around town. There’s obviously plenty I don’t like but for the most part it’s usually a fairly enjoyable experience.
You could find your own lamppost! your cup is filthy so all ya gotta do is slump and make us some dosh . I’ve got the holiday brochures……..
Baino – Do you Aussies chat each other up on buses? The only time a stranger talks to me is when they are about to try to mug me.
Rapture – Oh to be young again!! I can understand that there are aspects of the city that people might enjoy, but I’m too old for that. Given a choice, I’d head for St Stephen’s Green and feed the ducks, but the feckers are going to rip that up now.
Granny – If my mug is filthy, it’s because you are too fecking lazy to wash it. Not a bad idea though. Where do I buy a Styrofoam cup and a set of headphones?
You don’t need headphones! What with the tinnitus and the voices in your head.
I lived in D4 before it was D4 but I always remember the only joke my mother ever told me. She said ” do you know what sex is?” “No Ma,” I stammered. She said ” It’s what the people in Foxrock get their coal in”. I’m not sure if Foxrock is actually in D4 but that kind of vocal pretension is a bit older than you might think.
Welcome, Paulo! Ha! I’ve heard that about the Foxrock sex. And, no – they aren’t D4. They are much too superior to have a postal district. They are County Dublin [or Cainty, as they prefer to call it].
Thank God, finally someone who can see the light, someone who knows what it means to have family, and a safe haven to retreat into. Someone who sees the cities as a big cesspool and if we don’t stop all of the indiscriminate immigration the world will become one big pile of shite with no history, or traditions.
I live in rural South Australia, just close enough to be able to go to the city if and when I need to. It’s always good to get home again to my tumbledown house and vege garden.
People on the train (en route) are the same here… headphones and mobiles, and once in the city, I find that people look worried… frowning, grumpy and no eye contact.
Here, at home, I walk to the shop and wherever else I need to go. It is time consuming because of the series of conversations along the main street, but reassuring if you’re having a bit of a bad day. You can pick the city folk when they are here on weekends… they are the ones that don’t make eye contact, carry a drink bottle and a paper bag full of supplies from the least popular bakery.
Grandad,
Oh, no, no, no! Foxrock is not “Cowntee Dublin”, Foxrock is “sowth cowntee Dublin”, otherwise one might confuse it with that area north of the Northside.
There’s a delightful putdown around here that Killiney is, of course, in the electoral ward and the Catholic parish of Ballybrack!
John O – I sometimes think I’m a dinosaur in a modern age, but I’m not extinct yet!
Jane – One of the things I love about the countryside is walking into a shop and having a chat with the shopkeeper. The city is so anonymous that if you dropped dead on the pavement, they’d just step over you.
Ian – I stand corrected. How are things in Ballybrack Upper?
Word of advice: Carry a cow poker or a tazer around everywhere with you in town. It works wonders 🙂
Wouldn’t say Mulligans has gone to the dogs, as such, but it does house a lot more business people than in the days of Con Houlihan..
Ah sure and begorrah! It’s nice to get home to the turf fire and a nice wee cup of tea with the ass and cart outside the cottage to take you to the bog to fetch the turf in!
Isn’t it?
Haha, my Grandad is from the midlands down south, and every time i visit i seem to be roped into going down the bog to cut out some turf. Its nice for a fortnight, but you can give me the bustle of Derry City any day of the week!
Alot of foreigners have stumbled on your blog by the look of it!
Welcome Jim!! – I’m an ace turfcutter myself, having spent manys the weekend up on the mountains. Getting too old for it now. 🙁
According to my server, most of my visitors are Irish, but the Americans come a close second. They don’t count though.
Ah come on Grandad, we are not “all” that bad!!!
“They don’t count though”
With maybe one or two exceptions…..
More than a little irritating that I get the Union Jack when my internet runs through Jordanstown from Derry.
Politics ay?
Sigh
all u country people are sooo boring
dublin is the place 2be and you all know it
it has the best nightlife and atmosphere its
full of oppurtunities much better then working on
a farm in the middle of nowhere where the nearest bit of life to you is half an hour away. we hav the best accent 2.
Hello, EMZ.
I’m afraid I can’t write in txtspeak, so I hope you’ll understand what I’m saying?
Dublin in the place to be? [I assume that’s what ‘2be’ means?] Why? No one talks to anyone, and the atmosphere is 90% diesel fumes. Everyone looked miserable to me.
As for the nightlife? Do you mean the fights? The drunks in the gutters?
“we hav the best accent 2”
You are joking. This is a wind up? Someone is trying to take the piss here.
Whoever you are, don’t mock the illiter8.