01 January 2008

Forty Shades of Grey

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. - 'Ulysses', James Joyce
The trouble with winter (and to a lesser extent summer, autumn and spring) in Ireland is how overwhelmingly grey it is. The Very Understanding Girlfriend and I decided to start the New Year off by going for a walk along Sandymount Strand, near Joyce's Martello Tower, a popular tradition for Dubliners young and old for many generations. Unfortunately as we went to bed near 4am, by the time we got up this morning/afternoon we had precious few minutes of what passes for sunlight left, and got out to the sea near enough to dusk.

In Ireland I fear that we suffer from grey-blindness, like snowblindness, but not nearly as exciting. Casting my eyes out over Dublin Bay the grey of the houses merged with the grey of the road, and the beach, and the sea, and the sky, and the faces of the men and women huddled together for warmth as they paraded up and down the seafront, crush, crack, crick indeed. The overwhelming sense of meh that has settled over the city is palatable.

If we don't get a summer this year I'm packing up and leaving for ever.


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