Before I left for Italy last July, I wrote a list of things I'd miss about Dublin and Ireland. I can't look at it now; it'll make me too sad, reignite my technicolor fantasies of chucking everything and staying right here in my little bedsit, drinking Barry's tea and dreaming of swans. Instead, I try
Master's program over. One week left to pack up the rest of my junk and soak up the last of Dublin I'll see for a long time. What's it been like? It's been like this: (more…)
My friends and family all want to know how the food is here in Ireland. "How is it?" they ask. "How is it really?" They want to know if I'm suffering, if I'm hiding in bed each morning, frozen by the thought of enduring yet another day of gray meat boiled without salt. Straight away,
... means "Merry Christmas" in Irish.
Sean has gone down home to Cork today which means I'm free - free! - for the next 24 hours to window shop and snap photos like a tourist. I can troll the Rimmel section at Boots, try on hats at Topshop, browse issues of Glamour UK at Waterstones, and pose next to Molly Malone