We're on a road to nowhere...
Conversations in Dublin County on a Sunday afternoon
Yesterday, half three (15h30 in Ireland that is), I was after strolling through Merrion Park and making a few pictures of this fair city (I'm not as good as yer man at the old photographing-game meself, but I have a crack at it from time to time). I'm making my way through one of the estates as yer man drives up next to me. He's after rolling down his window and asks:
Man: "Yerself?"
Bietje: "Not too bad. Yerself? What's the story?"
Man: "I'm afterbeen lost for about half an hour. The wife and the kids are starting to give me grief (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more). Ya wouldn't know the way to Killkenny, would you?"
Bietje: "Killkenny, ya're after being on the other side of the island, ya are. I'm only afterbeen moving here three months ago, like, meself, that is. We'd better ask yer woman over there. 'Scuse me, misses. Yer man is after being driving around for hours. He's looking for the M50."
Woman: "The M50. Are ya lost, mate? Ya are. I'd say, like."
Man: "Actually, I need to get to Killkenny, meself, ma'am"
Woman: "From the south, yerself, are ya? I'd say ya make yer way back to the dual carriageway, take a left, at the seventh or eight lights take a right, passed the roundabout. Ya'll see a pub on the lefthand side, O'Leary's, fine pint they used to serve, they did. But then the landlord died and they had to sell. Place is owned by some guy from the Northside. There after losing half their clients, they are..."
Man: "And that's where I get on to the M50, meself, is it?"
Woman: "M50, is it? Oh, yes. Well, when ya're after passing the pub, ya take a right, ya'll come to a T-junction in Dundrum and I'm pretty sure there is a signpost there."
Man: "Fairplay to yis!"
Bietje and woman: "Take it easy, yerself!"
I'm after wondering how this country is after winning four Nobel prizes for Literature, meself, I am.
Conversations in Dublin County on a Sunday afternoon
Yesterday, half three (15h30 in Ireland that is), I was after strolling through Merrion Park and making a few pictures of this fair city (I'm not as good as yer man at the old photographing-game meself, but I have a crack at it from time to time). I'm making my way through one of the estates as yer man drives up next to me. He's after rolling down his window and asks:
Man: "Yerself?"
Bietje: "Not too bad. Yerself? What's the story?"
Man: "I'm afterbeen lost for about half an hour. The wife and the kids are starting to give me grief (wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more). Ya wouldn't know the way to Killkenny, would you?"
Bietje: "Killkenny, ya're after being on the other side of the island, ya are. I'm only afterbeen moving here three months ago, like, meself, that is. We'd better ask yer woman over there. 'Scuse me, misses. Yer man is after being driving around for hours. He's looking for the M50."
Woman: "The M50. Are ya lost, mate? Ya are. I'd say, like."
Man: "Actually, I need to get to Killkenny, meself, ma'am"
Woman: "From the south, yerself, are ya? I'd say ya make yer way back to the dual carriageway, take a left, at the seventh or eight lights take a right, passed the roundabout. Ya'll see a pub on the lefthand side, O'Leary's, fine pint they used to serve, they did. But then the landlord died and they had to sell. Place is owned by some guy from the Northside. There after losing half their clients, they are..."
Man: "And that's where I get on to the M50, meself, is it?"
Woman: "M50, is it? Oh, yes. Well, when ya're after passing the pub, ya take a right, ya'll come to a T-junction in Dundrum and I'm pretty sure there is a signpost there."
Man: "Fairplay to yis!"
Bietje and woman: "Take it easy, yerself!"
I'm after wondering how this country is after winning four Nobel prizes for Literature, meself, I am.
