Howth & The Baily Lighthouse

Howth Peninsula and the Baily Lighthouse

In Ireland, while making my way around various points, I stopped off at Howth Head. Located northeast of Dublin, Howth sits on a peninsula and has some wonderful coastal walking trails. One of which takes you past The Baily Lighthouse which has had a signal light shining from it in some way shape or form for over three hundred and fifty years. Just think about that for a second – three hundred and fifty years, that’s an awfully long time! In fact, the first light signal was built on the point near Howth in 1667 and was replaced by the Baily Lighthouse 1814. With multiple tracks to choose from, I spent a few hours strolling some of the various coastal paths which certainly have impressive views. I only wish I had more time to explore them. However, as the afternoon ran on and I became short of time, I realised I hadn’t allowed myself enough time to actually make it to the lighthouse, so I returned to Howth in search of a pint of Guinness to imagine what it might look like.

Molly Malone Statue

The Molly Malone Statue in Dublin

While walking the streets of Dublin’s fair city, I turned a corner onto Church Lane where I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone. Approaching the statue of the famous young lady and her cart, I joined a small crowd of people who were, like me, spending a few minutes taking in the statue before moving on with their day. So, my question is this. Is young Molly really dressed appropriately to be pushing a wheelbarrow filled with Cockles and Mussels through narrow, cobblestone streets? I would have thought a low cut dress wouldn’t have been the most practical of garments to be wearing, but then again, maybe I’m showing my age. Or, maybe it’s one of those things that us males simply don’t understand. Far be it for me to be giving out fashion advice to ladies, after all I can’t even go shopping for trousers or shirts without needing some sort of female fashion consultant or advisory group to oversee my choices. However, if people want to make statues of well endowed ladies in low cut tops, who am I to argue!

The Attempted Assassination of Benito Mussolini

Merrion Square North in Dublin

Of course, Oscar Wilde wasn’t the only famous resident of Merrion Square. The area has had many notable residents that include politicians, surgeons, judges, physicians, physicists, poets, playwrights, authors and fashion designers. It seems that the little plaque I found, placed by the Dublin Tourism office, wasn’t so rare after all. In fact, they appear quite regularly on the Georgian houses that surround the entire area, and it’s an impressive list. At various times, residents of Merrion Square have included Oscar Wilde, Sybil Connolly, Louise Kennedy, Sheridan Le Fanu, Daniel O’Connell, George Russell, William Yeats and Violet Gibson. Goodness me, what a street!

So, just who is Violet Gibson? Well, she is the lady who attempted to assassinate Italy’s Benito Mussolini in Rome on the 7th April, 1926. According to reports, having delivered a speech to the International Congress of Surgeons, Mussolini stepped outside into the fresh spring air where he was greeted by a large crowd, eager to catch a glimpse of the Italian Prime Minister. As he did so, Irish-born Violet pushed her way through the crowd, a revolver disguised in her black shawl. Then, as Mussolini walked into the crowd, saluting to his adoring supporters, he turned to his right to address a group of young men chanting his name. Suddenly, two gunshots rang out into the air and blood appeared on Mussolini’s face. A bullet having scraped his nose. As Violet went to fire a third time, the gun jammed, giving onlookers a chance to wrestle her to the ground before police arrived and took her into custody. In the preceding days and years the reason for the attempted assassination never became fully clear. Violet herself first claimed that she never shot him at all, then she did it for religious reasons and finally saying she didn’t know why she shot him. Eventually, Violet was deported back to England where she was declared insane and forced to live in an institution until her death in 1956. Whereas Mussolini lived for another 19 years, before he was forced to flee Italy in the closing months of World War II when he was shot and killed crossing the border into Switzerland.

Oscar Wilde House

Oscar Wilde House

I left St Stephen’s Green where among other things I had been watching squirrels and talking to a man named Daniel who was feeding pigeons. From there, I walked for some time, in no-particular direction taking in the streets of Dublin. Every so often, I would come to an intersection where I would decide on the direction I took by way of how interesting the street seemed. If nothing seemed appealing, I would simply head off along a path. This amused me for some time, until I came to an intersection where Merrion Street West, Merrion Street Lower, Merrion Street North and Clare Street all converged. Crossing the road I spied a helpful disc stuck to the side of a building by the Dublin Tourism office. Like most places around the world, they put these up on buildings to help people like me know that this building is worth taking note of. 

In this case the plaque read ‘Oscar Wilde 1854 – 1900’, Poet, Dramist, Wit, Lived Here 1855 – 1878.’ Taking a second to process this information, it suddenly dawned on me that I had inadvertently and quite by chance come across Merrion Square and the home of the one and only Oscar Wilde. While disappointed the building was closed, I was nevertheless pleased with my find. I took a minute to take in my surroundings as people pushed past me on the wintry afternoon, clearly annoyed at the valuable space I was taking up for no apparent reason. Making up my mind that I needed to digest this find a wee bit further, I immediately headed for the nearest pub, where I ordered a pint of Guinness and settled in to read about the life and times of the famous Oscar Wilde.

Across the River Liffey

Apartments on Wolfe Tone Quay in Dublin

Back to the streets of Dublin and looking across the River Liffey from Victoria Quay. This shot made me think, I don’t actually take a lot of vertical shots anymore. My first thought is always to shoot horizontally. Maybe that is something I should change.

The Bankers Bar In Dublin

The corner of Dame Lane & Trinity Street in Dublin.

While we are on the subject of photos from Dublin, this one I took while zigzagging through the city streets on a balmy evening in early January. I can’t remember where I was coming from, it might have been a restaurant. However, I do know I was heading for the Stags Head at the end of Dame Lane. A location where a tavern has existed in some shape or form since the 1780’s.

The Great Irish Hunger

The Irish Famine Sculptures of Dublin

This is another unpublished photo I came across. While in Dublin, I was walking alongside the River Liffey in the city’s Docklands on Custom House Quay. It was then that I came across the Irish Famine statues. An event that had a profound effect on Ireland and the worldwide Irish Community. There are a great many stories of the Great Irish Famine (1845-1849), many of which are hard to read due to the level of suffering that was involved.

One story is that of Rodger Cantwell and his family who survived the Irish famine that began in 1845. At the age of 30, living and working as farm laborer on the estate of Englisman George Fawcett in Toomevara, Tipperary, he and his wife Mary had come to rely on the potato as their main source of sustenance.

On a bleak October morning in 1845, after a prolonged period of heavy rain, he awoke to find a dense blue fog had settled over his fields. The air filled with the scent of decay. He was soon to discover, like his many neighbors, that his entire potato crop had been destroyed. For Rodger and his wife, the next few years were miserable. Often hungry, underweight and in ill health, the Indian corn and maize provided by the English as relief only managed to cause abdominal pain and diarrhea. To make matters worse, while the Irish farmers were starving, food exports to England that included oats, bacon, eggs, butter and beef continued. Eventually, many Irish farm laborers were dislodged from their homes by English landlords who hired crews to destroy their lodgings. Overnight, families found themselves starving and homeless. For people like Mary and Rodger, they joined the many waves of migrants fleeing starvation by immigrating overseas to places like America. 

Rodger and Mary Cantwell went on to settle in Rochester, New York before shifting to Milwaukee where they raised a family. Rodger eventually passed away at the age of 55 in 1870 while his wife Mary lived to the age 76. 

Following the Irish famine, between 1845 and 1855, the population of 8.2 million was reduced by one-third with 1 million dying of starvation and disease. Another 2 million emigrated to other countries. The Famine statues on Custom House Quay, are a somber and poignant commemoration of one of the most profound disasters in Irish history.

Daniel of Dublin

Daniel of Dublin

Amongst the jigsaw puzzle streets of Dublin that twist and turn across the city, you’ll find St Stephen’s Green. Within St Stephen’s Green, I found a man called Daniel. The few items that he was carrying with him were carefully placed on a park bench while he chatted to anyone who would stop by to talk. He was polite and friendly and spoke in a gravelly tone that told of a less than comfortable life on the streets of Dublin. He spoke of having many favourite spots in the city centre but this spot was by far his favourite. Manly because of how peaceful it is and the calmness of the place. Then just as he spoke they arrived, pigeons. Lots and lots of pigeons. 

It turns out that Daniel works for one of the homeless shelters in Dublin. Collecting money and donations, along with doing other ‘odds and ends’ that need to be done. But, what he really likes to do is feed the pigeons. As he threw seed out for them and gently poured it into the hands of strangers who stopped, the pigeons were quick to find the food source. In an instant, three to five pigeons were on heads, shoulders and arms, gently pecking. Suddenly, as quickly as they had arrived they were off into the sky. They swooped in a massive loop before landing in exactly the same spot and continuing their hunt for food.

Only then in the peace and beauty in Dublin’s St Stephen’s Green did he ask for a small donation.

St Patrick’s Cathedral In Dublin

St Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin – Buy

I missed the point in history when gift shops started popping up in Churches, but then I also missed the point when all politicians, heads of state and Kings and Queens were honest loyal citizens who were respected and looked up to for their integrity and principles. The pages of history are littered with nobles and powerful families who act in ways that seem to range from just a little peculiar to acts of complete lunasee. 

In the 15th Century, two powerful Irish families that competed for positions of power were the Butlers and the Fitzgeralds. The Butlers of Ormonde and the Fitzgeralds of Kildare didn’t like each other very much. Saying that these two Irish clan’s found each other repugnant might even be a little kind. The fact is that these two families despised each other. 

At the time of 1492, parts of Ireland were ruled by the King of England (The King of England was also the Lordship of Ireland) who was Henry VII. As Henry was a very busy person and couldn’t be in two places at once, he was represented locally in Ireland. At this time in Ireland, the King’s representative was called the Viceroy of Ireland. As the Viceroy was also a very busy person, he too had a deputy. This position was called the Lord Deputy. It was this high position of office that the powerful James Butler and Gerald Fitzgerald were bitterly arguing over. Unfortunately the appointment of Lord Deputy of Ireland in 1492 was not the honest, calm and well-mannered debate of modern day elections. The years of hostility, bickering and disagreement between the two families broke out into a violent conflict of outright warfare.

Outside the city walls of Dublin, the fighting escalated into a brutal battle which obviously started to go badly for the Butler’s as he and his followers took refuge at St Patrick’s Cathedral. Once at the Cathedral, the Butlers then bolted themselves inside the Chapter House. Angered by this, Fitzgerald followed them into the Cathedral, thumping on the door that separated the Cathedral from the Chapter House, demanding they come out. Afraid they would be slaughtered, the Butlers refused. 

Fortunately sanity took hold of the situation when Fitzgerald realised that here were two families, living in the same country, worshiping in the same church, trying to kill each other.  Needing to show his honest intent, Fitzgerald ordered a hole be cut in the middle of the door. When it was finished, an undefeated and defenceless Fitzgerald, at risk of having his arm chopped off, thrust it through the hole and extended his hand in peace. 

At once, Sir James Butler realised that the offer of peace was a serious one, took his hand, shook it and unlocked the door to the Chapter House of St Patrick’s. Restoring peace to the Butlers and Fitzgeralds families, giving us the phrase “to chance your arm” and the Cathedral a nice little gift shop 520 years later.

Now I’m not suggesting this is the way we should solve all our political disagreements or that politicians should risk having their arm chopped off however the idea has some merit. An action like this requires a test subject who would be willing to blindly stick their arm through a hole to a waiting angry mob for no other reason than to prove a point. I would like to suggest we try first with Donald J Trump.


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So This Is Christmas

A Walk At Christmas

I made a very stupid decision the other day. I decided to try and find a place to park in town. After my plan to easily slip into a space in one of the many parking buildings was quickly thwarted, I then joined the other like minded drivers who were making multiple laps around the city centre. If ever there was a breeding ground for road rage, this was surely it. After some time, and resisting the temptation to yell helpful driving tips out the car window, I eventually found a spot and skillfully maneuvered into it. Upon leaving the car, I found that in actual fact I was only a block from home. (But of course this is not true!) Proceeding on foot, sometime later I reached my destination of the local mall. On entry, I found myself listening to Michael Buble telling me that was ‘beginning to look a lot like Christmas.’ Apparently, everywhere I went. 

See full post & more photographs

Butlers & Fitzgeralds

To Chance Your Arm

I missed the point in history when gift shops started popping up in Churches, but then I also missed the point when all politicians, heads of state and Kings and Queens were honest loyal citizens who were respected and looked up to for their integrity and principles. The pages of history are littered with nobles and powerful families who act in ways that seem to range from just a little peculiar to acts of complete lunasee. 

In the 15th Century, two powerful Irish families that competed for positions of power were the Butlers and the Fitzgeralds. The Butlers of Ormonde and the Fitzgeralds of Kildare didn’t like each other very much. Saying that these two Irish clan’s found each other repugnant might even be a little kind. The fact is that these two families despised each other. 

At the time of 1492, parts of Ireland were ruled by the King of England (The King of England was also the Lordship of Ireland) who was Henry VII. As Henry was a very busy person and couldn’t be in two places at once, he was represented locally in Ireland. At this time in Ireland, the King’s representative was called the Viceroy of Ireland. As the Viceroy was also a very busy person, he too had a deputy. This position was called the Lord Deputy. It was this high position of office that the powerful James Butler and Gerald Fitzgerald were bitterly arguing over. Unfortunately the appointment of Lord Deputy of Ireland in 1492 was not the honest, calm and well-mannered debate of modern day elections. The years of hostility, bickering and disagreement between the two families broke out into a violent conflict of outright warfare.

Outside the city walls of Dublin, the fighting escalated into a brutal battle which obviously started to go badly for the Butler’s as he and his followers took refuge at St Patrick’s Cathedral. Once at the Cathedral, the Butlers then bolted themselves inside the Chapter House. Angered by this, Fitzgerald followed them into the Cathedral, thumping on the door that separated the Cathedral from the Chapter House, demanding they come out. Afraid they would be slaughtered, the Butlers refused. 

Fortunately sanity took hold of the situation when Fitzgerald realised that here were two families, living in the same country, worshiping in the same church, trying to kill each other.  Needing to show his honest intent, Fitzgerald ordered a hole be cut in the middle of the door. When it was finished, an undefeated and defenceless Fitzgerald, at risk of having his arm chopped off, thrust it through the hole and extended his hand in peace. 

At once, Sir James Butler realised that the offer of peace was a serious one, took his hand, shook it and unlocked the door to the Chapter House of St Patrick’s. Restoring peace to the Butlers and Fitzgeralds families, giving us the phrase “to chance your arm” and the Cathedral a nice little gift shop 520 years later.

Now I’m not suggesting this is the way we should solve all our political disagreements or that politicians should risk having their arm chopped off however the idea has some merit. An action like this requires a test subject who would be willing to blindly stick their arm through a hole to a waiting angry mob for no other reason than to prove a point. I would like to suggest we try first with Donald J Trump.

St Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin

Continue reading Butlers & Fitzgeralds

Is It Irresponsible Chasing Rainbows?

Visions, Illusions & Me.

Recently I came across something interesting in Queenstown which has occupied my thoughts off and on since. It was a faint rainbow stretching out across Lake Wakatipu. 

It isn’t the location of the rainbow itself that is of interest to me, nor the question of how rainbows are created, what drew my attention was pondering the curve of a rainbow. Or to be more precise, do they always have the same angle? I keep imagining Kermit sitting on a schist stone dipping his toes in the water of Lake Wakatipu, bango in hand, singing rainbow connection. As a rule of thumb, I would like to suggest that if like me, Kermit the frog springs to mind when you think about the science behind rainbows, you’re probably not an expert on them. 

In this moment the contemplating thoughts in my mind went in two directions. The first was what other naturally occurring scientific concepts do I not understand. The second direction was understanding the mathematics behind rainbows. I decided that trying to understand the concepts of nuclear fusion, string theory, starling murmurations and Auckland traffic was far beyond my mental capacity at this point, so I went with exploring the latter. Plus, since I now had Kermit loaded into my Spotify playlist I felt I was committed. 

My curiosity aroused, I felt there was only one place that would provide me with the facts I needed, the one place that keeps me reliably informed and up to date with the latest world developments. Google.

I feel I should point out at this juncture that I’ve become suspicious about Google and our relationship. It has soured somewhat. The long held trust and mutual respect we once held I fear has been lost. What brought our relationship to this point? Well, I suspect that Google has been lying to me. I must confess that this realisation hurts. My suspicions were aroused when a recent trip to Ireland resulted in zero Leprechaun sightings. 

As it turns out I’m not the first person to become fascinated by a rainbow outside the window, in fact I’m in very good company. Greek philosopher Aristotle devoted serious attention to the study of rainbows as did Roman theorist Lucius Annaeus Seneca (who probably peeked at Aristotle’s study notes). This cycle of building off others’ study notes before adding their own thoughts then continued for some time, right through to Rene Descartes who started playing with light passing through a sphere of water. Throughout this lineage of rainbows, one person who does seem to stand out in a very understated way is Roger Bacon. 

Not only does Roger Bacon have a fabulous last name that makes me hungry, he can also tell you how to make gunpowder! It transpires that Roger Bacon was the first European to describe in detail the process of making gunpowder. He also proposed flying machines, motorized ships and carriages some time in the 1200’s. Now anyone who is suggesting motorized machines and can tell you how to make gunpowder in the 1200’s must have been fascinating after a few beers! Along with describing how to blow things up, he also first measured the angle through which light is bent to our eye by a rainbow as being 42 degrees.  

Having discovered that the arc of a rainbow is 42 degrees, that the length of rainbow is dependent on where it is viewed from, that everyone sees a rainbow differently, that they form perfect circles (which is why you never reach the end or the bottom) and that there are 12 types of rainbow, I naively thought my pursuit of had come to an end. Until, Google threw me a curve ball. It brought me back to Leprechauns. Now, I must confess that my curious nature got the better of me and no matter how distrusting of Google I was, I went in search of pots of gold. 

I had it in mind that there would be a fairly bright and easy yellow brick road that would lead me to the end of the rainbow, however unlike Dorthey I wasn’t lucky enough to have a glowing yellow road to follow.  My own search was filled with many no exit streets, detours and wrong turns that seemed to add neither confusion or clarity to my quest until I came across the Vikings! If you want to make a story interesting, just throw in an ill tempered Viking or two to jazz up the plot. Fortunately for me, the pot of gold myth that I liked the best, had loads of Vikings in it.  

It seems that back in the days of the Vikings – who weren’t really very nice people but had amazing beards – they spent much of their time raiding, plundering and looting Irish villages for money and gold before burying it all over the countryside. Upon leaving Ireland, the Vikings proved that despite having fabulous beards they were incredibly absentminded and forgot to take their treasure with them, which was promptly found by the underground dwelling and human mistrustings Leprechauns. Knowing the origins of this treasure and claiming it for themselves, they reburied the gold. Nowadays, whenever a rainbow appears it’ll end where the gold is buried.  But then again, can you trust a Leprechaun or a Viking for that matter? No matter how fabulous his beard is! 

Until a few days ago I thought that a rainbow was simply light reflecting and bending off water droplets in the atmosphere resulting in a colour appearing. But, it transpires that they are as complicated as they are beautiful.

From all this we can draw four important conclusions. Firstly, Aristotle was a science guy as well as being a philosopher dude. Secondly, Roger Bacon would have been a wonderful drinking companion. Thirdly, the Vikings had fabulous beards but were incredibly forgetful. Fourthly that a little green frog was the most insightful of all when he observed that ‘rainbows are visions and illusions and probably contain a little touch of magic.’It seems that pursuing rainbows isn’t a bad thing after all. 

Rainbow over Lake Wakatipu, Queenstown.

College & Westmoreland Street

The Thomas Moore Statue

I know this is hard to believe but there are times when I get over excited when I’m taking photos and then there are occasions when I completely forget where I am and become obsessed with the image I’m taking. Usually this happens when I’m somewhere new, using a new piece of equipment or there’s some cool light happening. When all three of these elements come together I’m a bit useless for anything else. Recently in Dublin My wife and I had just walked back from O’Connell Street and over the River Liffey when I insisted to my wife that we stop by the Thomas Moore Statue as the evening sky was turning a lovely blueish-purple. I grabbed my camera and new mini tripod and excitedly setup position to get a shot where College & Westmoreland Street meet beside the Irish Houses of Parliament.

After a good 5 to 10 minutes, happy with my efforts, I returned to the statue where my return was greeted with an annoyed “where the hell have you been?” It seems that in my excitement and rush to grab my camera, tripod and set up I not only forgot to say where I was going, but also took off with my wife’s wallet and phone in peak rush hour traffic! It didn’t make things better when I pointed out the rather dangerous place I was standing. At this juncture there was only one course of action left open to me, insist we head to the near pub to make amends, she didn’t argue.

College & Westmoreland Street – Order Print

Continue reading College & Westmoreland Street

Dear Mammy

Postcards From Ireland

Postcards from a travelling photographer discovering Ireland and connecting with some truly wonderful people along the way.

The RMS Titanic was the pride of Belfast in the years leading up to (and including) 1911.

Malahide Seawall and Beach, DublinDear Mammy [or insert own name here]
Had a very quiet New Years as we spent the day relocating from Shankill to Sandymount and collecting belongings from Malahide.  It’s nice to have all our gear back in one place. 
It was a beautiful New Years day here with almost a cloudless day. The temperature was around 10 to 12 degrees, very crisp but fine and clear. We’ve hardly had any rain since we’ve arrived. The weather is so mild no-one can believe it!
It was such a grand day today we went for a walk from Sandymount to Sean Moore Park in Dublin Bay and around to Poolbeg Lighthouse and back. Such a lovely place to visit, and a great stroll by the sea. There is even a little coffee van that serves hot drinks to keep you warm and hydrated. 
After such a splendid walk we definitely deserved a whiskey and beer. 
Hope you get some fine summer weather soon.
Love John


Continue reading Dear Mammy

Peace & Beauty In Dublin

Daniel of Dublin

Discovering a little peace and beauty in Dublin.

Amongst the jigsaw puzzle streets of Dublin that twist and turn across the city, you’ll find St Stephen’s Green. Undoubtedly one of the hearts of the Irish capital. While in Dublin, if you’re looking for a bit of  peace and beauty with a touch of tranquility then St Stephens Green is the place to head too. And within St Stephen’s Green, you’ll find a man called Daniel. 

If you take the entrance to the green via the top of Grafton Street, you’ll pass under the impressive Fusilier’s Arch that was built in 1907. The pleasant sights of lush green spaces, water stretching and bending out of sight and trees of all ages shading and arching over the many walkways. It was while slowly wandering around one of the many paths that loop back to Fusiller’s Arch that I spotted him, a man called Daniel. 

The few items that he was carrying with him were carefully placed on a park bench while he chatted to anyone who would stop by to talk. He was polite and friendly and spoke in a gravelly tone that told of a less than comfortable life on the streets of Dublin. He spoke of having many favourite spots in the city centre but this spot was by far his favourite. Manly because of how peaceful it is and the calmness of the place. Then just as he spoke they arrived, pigeons. Lots and lots of pigeons. 

It turns out that Daniel works for one of the homeless shelters in Dublin. Collecting money and donations, along with doing other ‘odds and ends’ that need to be done. But, what he really likes to do is feed the pigeons. As he threw seed out for them and gently poured it into the hands of strangers who stopped, the pigeons were quick to find the food source. In an instant, three to five pigeons were on heads, shoulders and arms, gently pecking. Suddenly, as quickly as they had arrived they were off into the sky. They swooped in a massive loop before landing in exactly the same spot and continuing their hunt for food.

Only then in the peace and beauty in Dublin’s St Stephen’s Green did he ask for a small donation.

St Stephens Mall Buy

Continue reading Peace & Beauty In Dublin

Fairytale of Dublin

The Christmas Lights of Dublin

It’s Christmas evening in the Irish capital of Dublin. The temperature is now sitting on a chilly 5 degrees and the clock has just struck 9:30pm. A fire roars, spreading out heat and warmth to a room filled with good company, good food and plenty of laughter while talk turns to Christmas Day, St Stephen’s Day and the upcoming festivities. 

Across Dublin, the glow of the Christmas lights have long taken hold of the city of merriment and festive cheer. The streets surrounding Grafton Street and O’Connell bridge are decked out with twinkling lights of all shapes and sizes that make you stop and wonder while the air is filled of music coming from buskers up and down Dublin’s cobbled streets.

If you haven’t experienced a Northern Hemisphere winter Christmas then it really should be on your bucket list. Having grown up with Christmas in the summer, New Zealand traditions revolve around BBQ’s, trips to the beach. Relaxing in the long twilight hours with an ale or two until the Christmas lights take hold after 9pm or 10pm (ish). Christmas lights certainly give kiwi homes a very festive feel, but it’s not till you experience a city where nightfall takes hold around 4pm, that Christmas lights really make sense. People hurry from shop to shop filling their bags with last minute gifts or food items. People are warmed and brightened by the wonder of the Christmas lights on show. It’s in this moment that Christmas lights make sense.

Corner of Grafton and Annie Street Buy

Continue reading Fairytale of Dublin