Malcolm revisits old haunts ...

A weekend in Dublin: College, O'Neill's (where Malcolm was first devised), Hodges and Figgis (a Waterstoning of its former self, alas), the University and Kildare Street Club (17 Stephen's Green: Yah!), O'Neill's again, a bitter taste of what Bewleys once was, and again O'Neill's ... a grand few days.

Trinity is still a fine place. Three superb squares (if one includes Botany Bay, as one must) and the finest collection of Georgian granite one could wish. The nostalgia hits even harder under heavy leaden skies, and after a wetting. The modern stuff is hidden away on the south side, towards Nassau Street: in its own way it may even be worth the odd Michelin bullet. The latest Library addition is worth the visit. Eight stories seen from a central atrium knifing the height of the structure.

The visit and its implications will need further explanation, at greater length. So, doubtless, will the spleen need to be vented about the inhumanities of Ryanair, Stansted and Dublin Airport. And why do the Dublin authorities keep erecting such trite and kitsch statues? At least we were spared the Irish Traditional Music (except the occasional twiddle of a penny whistle) while the locals wept in their Guinness after Dublin Crokered to Mayo: for which Seán Moran's final sentence in the Irish Times report deserves a hat-tip: "The West was awake and as the late Micheál O'Hehir once so eloquently put it, the Jacks were flushed". Sphere: Related Content