Tuesday, June 07, 2005
You've all gone and left me in your hell I call home, but wouldn't you have had fun kicking a ball in the Phoenix Park with us yesterday.
As the sun smiled down, it brought me to mind that your prison walls are my sitting listening to wild bird calls.
And I can't romanticise the skangers or the puke on the street, but the humour speak and nights of banter make up for the dewy rain never cease.
Those childhood games of squares and kerbs, as I watch the kids in Tallaght play Kick the Can, and the view from beside Pine Forest is just grand.
Sure I leave her too, but I take my city with me, even when I refer to her as s*itty. So it pains me to hear you diss her, never a good word to say, and yet I remember the fun we've had blagging our way into Lillies.
Only to leave the pretention and have a smelly pint in Doyles, before heading home on the nitelink. Don't you remember the Chocolate Mousse cake in Café Metro the day after.
Maybe you're right, I'm a fool and naive, yet I can't help but like who I am, where I'm from.
(Never mind my ramblings, check out the far superior: 'Dublin Made Me' by Donagh Mac Donagh