I am coming close to the end of my sentence – I hope.
Eight months locked up – more or less.
It began with the infection in September which landed me in James’s Hospital for a fortnight.
I left with an instruction to self-isolate. No pubs. No busy shops. No crowds.
So although I’ve been up and down my road for walks and have driven Connie and Charlotte here and there without getting out of the car, I’ve essentially been quarantined.
Today, Stephen’s Green.
“Dublin can be heaven, with coffee at eleven, and a stroll in Stephen’s Green.”*
Well, it was heaven for me.
Ducks. Swans. A moorhen.
And people who, apart from the odd eejit, did actually walk on the right hand side of the Green’s footpaths.
What a joyous park to have in the middle of our city.
Pity is, I couldn’t wander down to McDaid’s or Kehoe’s or Neary’s or Bruxelles for a pint.
Still, I’m thankful that I did get out for a very slow walk even if I got the occasional stare due to the (small) oxygen machine hanging off my left shoulder and the tubes going into my nostrils.
Hopefully, there are more and longer walks in the offing.
*(The Dublin Saunter, that brilliant song written by Leo Maguire and sung so passionately by Noel Purcell. But back in the late sixties, there was a plan announced for an underground railway in Dublin. Really. I think it’s every six or seven years they announce it. That same year, CIE ran a promotion offering free return travel for the price of a one way ticket. And of course Sinnott’s was the pub on the Green at South King Street. I’m telling you this because, even now, when I hear the song I am reminded of the version penned by my brother Dee for the L&H in UCD. How or why I remember the words, I don’t know. But here they are!
Dublin can be heaven,
On subway route eleven,
Which goes under, Stephen’s Green.
No need to worry,
No need to hurry,
You’re a part of the underground scene.
Grafton Street’s a wonderland,
There’s magic in the air,
If you’re goin’ any further,
Then you haven’t got a prayer,
The comin’ back is free,
But they will never get you there,
Because the driver’s been in Sinnott’s half the mornin’.
Well, it’s a incline.
I’m not ready for it.