As if to prove the veracity of all those doom merchants who warned me it would rain while we were in Dublin…it did! I woke up early and heard it lashing against the window of our room. Bum! Not even going to have a first morning here in the dry. But, undeterred, we layered up our clothes (the temperature had dropped too) and topped it all off with raincoats before venturing out on our first exploration of the city. Even so, my face and hands became quickly cold and the map I was trying to follow soggier and soggier. Mr McGregor’s phone persisted in saying he was offline so no help from Google maps. We found Molly Malone’s statue but resisted the temptation to rub her generous and shiny bosem for luck!

We found College green but then I had a crisis of confidence in my direction finding instinct and made us walk back some way before deciding the river was not up ahead. How can you lose the biggest landmark?

Splashing down the cobbled alleyways we finally fetched up on the riverbank next to what turned out to be the Halfpenny bridge so called because of the toll charged by the original owner when it replaced his ferry service.

Our idea had been to walk along the other bank to the Jeannie Johnston, a sailing ship that took starving migrants to Canada, although only about a third made it across alive. Tugging our hoods closer we turned into the wind and kept walking.

These two needed a brolly! By now we had resorted to ours as the rain was getting harder. The walk took us past O’Connell bridge, the one I’d been trying to find, faced with an imposing statue of the man himself. Then on past the enormous Customs House. We kept hoping to find a cosy coffee shop to shelter in but no luck. Finally we got to the EPIC centre, the famine museum. Too gloomy a subject to visit given the gloom outside but under its huge steel and glass roof there were consumer outlets and a coffee shop.

We peeled off the wet coats and recovered. Across the road at the Jeannie we decided against the guided tour there too.

Still raining and it looked dubious as to whether himself plus stick would be able to negotiate it easily. Probably bang my head, he observed. So we turned back and walked along the riverside to the famine memorial statues.

As we stood there wrapped up against the weather and warmed by a decent breakfast and hot coffee it was horrible to imagine the hideousness those poor people suffered being forced to leave the land and Ireland to attempt a better life elsewhere. There are similarities all around the world today which suggests we still haven’t learnt any lessons from it.

By now we, or least I was beginning to get a feeling for where things were and we were soon back at College green, passing Thomas More and retracing our steps back to Molly. A nearby pub offered soup and sandwiches which seemed just right for warming us up.

As we feasted the sun began to shine and we could glimpse blue sky beyond the window.

Finally we could saunter around the roads and alleyways of Temple bar.

We visited Grafton street, a pedestrianised thoroughfare full of big name shops, where I bought a lovely warm woollen scarf from one of the many Irish souvenir shops. I have many scarves at home but didn’t pack one. I’d been wearing shorts and a t-shirt the day before we left!

Back through the lively and jam packed George street arcade which had been shuttered and closed earlier…

And to the hotel for tea and the blog (me) and snooze (himself).

Later I went off on a personal quest to the National gallery of Ireland who have an exhibition of Women Impressionists who are finally getting some recognition for their work and talent.

I passed through a more upmarket part of town noting Bonham’s, the auctioneers, and the National Irish library. The sun was determinedly out now and I just made it in time to the gallery as it closes earlier than galleries in France.

St Anne’s, ‘the church in the city’….

I thoroughly enjoyed my quiet wander in the gallery and did have enough time to study each of the artists exhibited, three of whom I knew nothing about. I scribbled their names so I could swot up later. Berthe Morisot was very familiar but I had never seen so many of her works exhibited together.

Back to the hotel, studying menus on the way but, finally, we opted to go back to the Hairy Lemon, us and about half of Dublin! 😊 Fishy choices for us both plus Guinness for Mr McGregor again.

ps an old advertisement for Guinness that reminded me of passing a similar but enormous depiction of the toucan on a hoarding somewhere near Bromley south station as I came home from school. Blimey, that was a long time ago!! 😊