© photo by With a Squinty Eye
It felt like Dublin city centre was closed yesterday. A sign on a shop door confirmed it. The streets were full of branded bagged shoppers in what seems to increasingly be our national dress of dark, safe colours.
Amongst the crowd were tourists looking both amused and bemused at the sights and sounds around them. A minimum of street entertainers stopped them in their tracks along Grafton Street though it was a far cry from what I had hoped. There was the usual hustle and bustle that you’d come to expect on Dublin’s streets but beneath the bland grey sky were bland grey scenes. I was very uninspired.
As I strolled into the city centre, I suppose my expectations were very different from the reality. The side-street hoarding that once made a nice backdrop is now a chrome-ridden bar; the coffee stall that I had visited the day before (and didn’t take a photo of its owner when I should have!) was closed and perhaps Sundays attract a different demographic anyway.
I went expecting and perhaps that was the problem. When you need a train it never comes.