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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I always feel a bit melancholy coming back to Dublin these days. It's really strange, because in the olden days, when I lived in Edinburgh or Derry, I would always feel joyous the first time I saw, say, the patchwork of Dublin from the airplane or the first Dublin bus from the window of the train. But in the last year - and people of Dublin, please don't take great offence at this - I have always felt a bit melancholic.

I'm not sure why this is. I've been thinking about it for the past few days, and I've still not been able to put my finger on it. I think it might have something to do with being bloody minded and determined to make some sort of life in the city in which I have chosen to live right now. Before now, living in Derry was merely a term-time event, and living in Edinburgh was a six month adventure that happened to last nearly four years. This time, living in London has been not just a geographical but a lifestyle choice. It's not just a convenience, it's a necessity, if I'm to continue to live with and annoy He Who Only... as much as I'm doing at the moment. And due to the fact that he hasn't recently come to his senses and realised his life was a lot more quiet before I turned up, and that he could sit from one end of a football match to another without someone asking (a) about his plans for the rest of the week, (b) about his feelings and (c) for a kiss, I am still in London Town.

I love Dublin. I really do. There are so many brilliant things about Ireland, but specifically about Dublin, that thinking about them for longer than about a minute leave my innards with the same texture and make as melted marshmallows. I love the accents, I love the people, I love the sense of humour, I love the dignity, I love the tradition, I love the sense of pride, I love everything about it. And yet, when I'm landing in it, I don't feel that spark any more.

I think what I'm trying to say is, I've fallen out of love with my home town.

MY HOME TOWN, though, people. Mrs Moo, please don't go and have a baby right now upon reading this post, I'm just saying that Me and Dublin no longer have that certain something that used to set my heart a-flutter. I freaking LOVE Ireland and there is nothing anyone could ever do, nothing that any other country could ever offer me that would make me disavow the glory that is the auld country. Dammit, y'all, I'll break into a chorus of the national anthem right here and now if it'll make you feel any better.

But landing in Dublin, cruising through town, catching the Luas, looking at all the inexplicable statues of hares that have appeared around the place with no obvious explanation, looking at the cleanliness, the new buildings, the people, the places that I'm used to - they just didn't ignite in me the old spark that used to be there.

And that's a bit weird.

This is Kesh, looking adoringly at Little Sister Edel. I love this picture.


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