Tales from Dublin Pubs: Molloy's of Talbot Street
This is one of Dublin’s few remaining early-houses and was once owned by two chuckle brothers from the West of Ireland who used their pub as a snare and knew how to set it.
Memories of bygone homes
I have lived in London nearly four years now; the time has passed like a heartbeat. A blink. It’s only when I go “home” that I realise how much time has passed. Returning to my hometown is strange. Mostly the same with a few things moved around and fewer people I know: a gallery of memories, myself a ghost, stirred by sights or smells. New memories in this realm don’t feel possible.
Tales from Dublin pubs: Clarke's City Arms of Prussia Street
We visited one sweltering summer’s day (admittedly with drink already taken) and found a pleasant exterior with a medieval door and lots of squared windows. On first entering it seemed silent and serene. Light was blissful and motes of dust spun basking in its beams. One can imagine how we were lulled and unprepared for what was soon to come.
Tales from Dublin Pubs: O'Connell, J. of South Richmond Street
Barman Freddie (who curses like a sailor and practices an old world pouring technique involving knives and generous spillages) is wont to enjoy his own supply behind the counter, and grows slower to serve and more moody accordingly.
Ikigai: Find your own meaning
Meaningful work is a powerful tool for keeping us sane. In his book that charts his time at a Siberian Labour camp, Dostoevsky acknowledges that although the work is hard there is a salvation in following it through from beginning to end and seeing its use. The way to truly break someone would be to divorce the work from meaning.
Tales from Dublin pubs: Addison Lodge of Botanic Road
The Addison Lodge is a chameleonic venue phenomenon in existential crisis. This establishment is fighting for its life and the only reason it’s still breathing is because it’s located next to the lungs of the city: the Botanic Gardens of Glasnevin.
Mercurius: A window, a sea, a friend
What is Mercurius Magazine? And why does it exist? Our editors get creative with their perceptions…
Exercise in Utopia
Those who want to explore space will take a ship and sail across the stars. They will discover other worlds, full of wonders. They might peacefully colonise them, or establish local representative offices. Space trade will begin and intergalactic trade unions will be founded.
Surf Lessons
You never forget the first time you “catch a wave”. Squinting into the sun, looking backwards, waiting for the rising swell, capped by a white foam. Paddling as fast as you can to keep up. And then the feeling of being carried by something infinitely more powerful than yourself.
Tales from Dublin pubs: The Lower Deck of Richmond Road
The pub has a unique way of getting a helping hand behind the bar when it gets busy. They allow certain customers to do the unthinkable: cross over the threshold and step behind the bar to occasionally help out.
Whirr and Chime
Waiting makes you a passive consequence of externalities. Action transforms you into a cause. Even if the result is small, it still feels incredibly meaningful. And meaningful moments are ones that are the most pleasant to recall.
On statues and nationalism: Stone is not as true as flesh
Whilst the past should never be forgotten or white-washed, divisions that result from divergent perceptions and emotional registers preclude any attempt to advance. Only through a more holistic understanding can we move forward. Protecting stone at the cost of flesh will not get us anywhere. Stone cannot deliver the whole truth.
Between nature and culture
It is normal to be worried and dissatisfied these days. Former icons are invalid, old narratives are deceitful, mainstream thinking is biased, our feelings betray us, and reason only hastens arguments against ourselves. One might say: our entire culture is opposed to nature, and nature is always right. However, this opposition seems misconceived.
Meditations: Tree of death
On the solstice 2020, I encountered the ancient Crowhurst Yew and had a conversation.
The thin place
In Gaelic, the “thin place” translates as “closest place to heaven on Earth”. The cloud appears to touch the water. As you gaze on the iron clad surface, the peaty mud between your toes, a deafening silence surrounds your ears.
Riding the first wave: Lockdown in Paris
Lockdown can feel like prison. No long walks, nor catching up with friends. Everyone you know is scattered across the city, out of physical reach. Policemen patrol the streets. You sit alone in your room, grim and anxious, perhaps even depressed.
The never-ending quest…
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