Daily Photo – The Corner College & Westmoreland Street in Dublin
A while ago, while visiting Dublin, I found myself standing at one of the busiest and most historic intersections in the city. It was early evening, the crowds were streaming past in every direction, and the fading light had turned the sky a wonderful shade of blue. As photographers are prone to doing, I became completely distracted by the prospect of a good photo and paid very little attention to anything else going on around me, becoming completely absorbed in the spot where I was standing.
After all, this is the spot where Dubliners affectionately nicknamed a statue of poet Thomas Moore “The Meeting of the Waters”, entirely because the city decided to build an underground public toilet directly beneath his feet.
This is the spot where Victorian architects concluded Irish stone simply wasn’t dramatic enough, importing enormous blocks of pink Peterhead granite from Scotland just to make a bank corner appear suitably imposing.
This is the spot where deep underground vaults, once used to guard the gold and fortunes of the Provincial Bank, were later cleared out and transformed into a cocktail bar, allowing hotel guests to sip craft drinks within thick subterranean stone walls.
This is the spot where 18th-century planners from the Wide Streets Commission demolished a tangled maze of medieval lanes, deliberately carving out a grand triangular space so wealthy pedestrians could enjoy a better view of the parliament buildings.
This is the spot where millions of hurried commuters, confused tourists and perpetually late students have gathered for generations, mostly unaware they are walking directly above the long-buried course of the ancient Poddle River as it quietly makes its way towards the River Liffey.
And this is the spot where, while attempting to photograph the evening light over College Green, I became so absorbed in setting up my camera and tripod that I wandered off with my wife’s phone and wallet, leaving her stranded in the middle of Dublin’s rush-hour crowds wondering where on earth I’d disappeared to.
Fortunately, after a brief and entirely justified telling-off beside the Thomas Moore statue that included the phrase, “Where the hell have you been?”, the matter was settled in the traditional Irish fashion: with a visit to the nearest pub.
