Paddy's Day 2011
Fun day yesterday. Tee convinced me to join her in the parade as part of the Dublin Cycling Campaign. All I had to was get up.... Also cycle my bike would be handy, but the getting up part was defo gonna take the lion's share of effort.
Her dad drove us in and I got dropped off at a Dublin Bikes while she scooted off to collect her bike from a 24-hour car park she'd left it in the previous night. Disastro, the car park was locked and the stand I was at had only one bike with a flat tyre. We both ran off to another stand, got working bikes, and hit the road. Due to street closures, it was really hard to get to Upper Dominic St and we arrived only 10 minutes before the parade started. On the way, I came across a completed section of the new Portobello-Fairview bike track. It was at least 3 metres wide, which makes a nice change, and had what looked like it own set of traffic signals, not switched on yet though. Not sure if they were just poles or what. The metal structures, not the Eastern Europeans.
We were the very last people in the parade and it was well over an hour before things started moving up ahead. In front of us were Chinese and Africans dressed as leprechauns in a cultural crossover that would have made Benetton proud.
We practiced our twee little chants - "Bicycles are brilliant!" and gleefully rang our bells. Off we set and well behaved crowds of mainly kids of many varieties cheered us on and held out little hands for high-fiving. I'd say at least 25% of the crowd was non-white.
We started way up beyond Parnell Square and it was stop-start the whole way. I tweeted my feelings. The sun was out most of the time but it was freezing otherwise. Therese had a green ballroom mask and I had a tricolour jester hat. Bemused gardai lined the way. Twice we passed stands with seated dignitaries who clapped politely as megaphone girls bigged us up. Coming down O'Connell St, we were warned by a sign that we were entering a "live television broadcast area". I got my game face on.
By the end, at Patrick's Cathedral, we were tired and hungry and dying for a pint. We broke away and, after ditching the bikes on Golden Lane, headed for lunch in Le Gueleton.
Over an increasingly drunk hour, I enraptured my gf with stories about trains. My croque Monsieur was suitably gourmet and despite trying to hold back, I suffered a post-meal slump in Nearys afterwards. My parents showed up which lifted my spirits, though my dad hadn't enjoyed his Wagamama's. We talked about my redundancy payout. I assured them I hadn't forgotten the cash gift. My mum gave me her bank details just to be sure. The other day I'd had less success with my sister. I transferred funds into her account and called her up, but before I could say much, she retorted, "What is this? Is this gonna turn into a chat? Cause I'm just sitting down to dinner. Look, I can't fucking talk now, I'll call ya later." An hour later I got a text, "Now I'm watching a film. Can't talk. What the hell do you want anyway?"
Still, the least drunk I've ever been on Paddy's Day.
Her dad drove us in and I got dropped off at a Dublin Bikes while she scooted off to collect her bike from a 24-hour car park she'd left it in the previous night. Disastro, the car park was locked and the stand I was at had only one bike with a flat tyre. We both ran off to another stand, got working bikes, and hit the road. Due to street closures, it was really hard to get to Upper Dominic St and we arrived only 10 minutes before the parade started. On the way, I came across a completed section of the new Portobello-Fairview bike track. It was at least 3 metres wide, which makes a nice change, and had what looked like it own set of traffic signals, not switched on yet though. Not sure if they were just poles or what. The metal structures, not the Eastern Europeans.
We were the very last people in the parade and it was well over an hour before things started moving up ahead. In front of us were Chinese and Africans dressed as leprechauns in a cultural crossover that would have made Benetton proud.
We practiced our twee little chants - "Bicycles are brilliant!" and gleefully rang our bells. Off we set and well behaved crowds of mainly kids of many varieties cheered us on and held out little hands for high-fiving. I'd say at least 25% of the crowd was non-white.
We started way up beyond Parnell Square and it was stop-start the whole way. I tweeted my feelings. The sun was out most of the time but it was freezing otherwise. Therese had a green ballroom mask and I had a tricolour jester hat. Bemused gardai lined the way. Twice we passed stands with seated dignitaries who clapped politely as megaphone girls bigged us up. Coming down O'Connell St, we were warned by a sign that we were entering a "live television broadcast area". I got my game face on.
By the end, at Patrick's Cathedral, we were tired and hungry and dying for a pint. We broke away and, after ditching the bikes on Golden Lane, headed for lunch in Le Gueleton.
Over an increasingly drunk hour, I enraptured my gf with stories about trains. My croque Monsieur was suitably gourmet and despite trying to hold back, I suffered a post-meal slump in Nearys afterwards. My parents showed up which lifted my spirits, though my dad hadn't enjoyed his Wagamama's. We talked about my redundancy payout. I assured them I hadn't forgotten the cash gift. My mum gave me her bank details just to be sure. The other day I'd had less success with my sister. I transferred funds into her account and called her up, but before I could say much, she retorted, "What is this? Is this gonna turn into a chat? Cause I'm just sitting down to dinner. Look, I can't fucking talk now, I'll call ya later." An hour later I got a text, "Now I'm watching a film. Can't talk. What the hell do you want anyway?"
Still, the least drunk I've ever been on Paddy's Day.