I stayed up late last night watching the election coverage, so I’m slow moving this morning. At the time I went to bed, around midnight on the U.S. East Coast, Joe Biden had taken the lead in the electoral college but hopes for an early landslide victory had evaporated. I reach over to my phone with dread; would I awaken to the nightmare of an indisputable DJT re-election? I’m relieved that the electoral counts haven’t changed. I have coffee, put the chili in the mini-oven to slow cook, then settle on the couch to watch MSNBC’s live stream coverage on YouTube. The battleground states have still not been called, and it does not sound like they will be for some time.
The weather is dry out, and since I didn’t leave the apartment yesterday, I’m anxious to get some fresh air. I snap out of the hypnotic election coverage, take a shower, then text my friend M who had suggested meeting for coffee sometime this week. To my delight, he’s still free this afternoon. We agree to meet at Tasty 8, the same cafe in The Liberties neighborhood very close to his place where we had met before. I’m out the door around 2:30pm and enjoy a leisurely 20 minute walk to get there. Meath Street is much more subdued than the first time I saw it pre-lockdown, although there are a couple of large construction projects that are still underway (these are exempted from the close-down restrictions).
M walks up as I arrive. I’ve already donned my facemask in preparation to enter the cafe, but M doesn’t bother with one — the cafe owners know him well and apparently there’s an unspoken agreement between them that precautions aren’t necessary (an attitude that many people seem to adopt here). We order coffees to go, since outdoor seating is no longer allowed, and the woman in the kitchen packages up two scones for us at no charge since M’s a regular. We head back to M’s place just around the corner. I’m expecting his dogs to greet us enthusiastically when we pass through the front door, but apparently they’re with his ex down in Longford for a few days. M’s kitchen is relatively spacious, and there’s a countertop with barstools where we settle in for our visit. A new housemate has moved in since last time I was here, and I don’t even notice that he has appeared in the doorway behind me until M greets him, giving me a mild startle. He’s a tall, young fellow, a music student, and the son of someone M knows, seemingly very quiet and polite. Although M introduces his housemate to me, I immediately forget his name (a common fault of mine). He’s come downstairs to practice some music on M’s keyboard and soon excuses himself, leaving M and me to continue our chattering in the kitchen. We converse about various topics such as past relationships and places where we have both traveled, only briefly discussing the U.S. election, which comes as a welcome reprieve. Before long, the daylight begins to dim which I take as a cue to wrap up my visit, plus the lack of sleep is beginning to wear on me. M says to ring him up anytime I need to get out. He seems as much in need of company as I am.
On the way back towards Temple Bar, I take photos of St. Audoen’s Church and a preserved section of the old Dublin city wall that’s nearby. In reading up on St. Audoen’s, I learn that it was erected in 1190, making it the oldest parish church in Dublin, and it’s still in use today. But what exactly is a “parish” church? What this means is that it’s part of the Church of Ireland that traces its origins back to the early Celtic Church of St. Patrick, the same source from which the Catholic church in Ireland sprung. Also referred to as the “Irish church,” it is considered to be both Catholic (in terms of following the same liturgical traditions as the Catholic church up until the Reformation) while also Protestant, in that it rejects the the authority of the Roman pope, following a similar course as the Church of England (which later evolved into the Anglican Church). I’m glossing over lots of nuances here, but the point is that there’s more to the story of Christianity in Ireland than just Catholics and Presbyterians.
I stop by the Dunnes grocery store near my apartment to pick up another bottle of Jameson’s whiskey, as my supply had been significantly depleted during the election coverage the previous evening. There are a fair number of people walking about, and surprisingly, some folks seem to be congregating outside of the Dame Tavern (which like other pubs is pouring “take away” pints and cocktails). Apparently the Gardaí either aren’t aware of this or are choosing to ignore it?
The evening is already getting late, and I have my early morning DBT session later on at 1:30am, so I better get at least a few hours of sleep in beforehand so that I can stay awake for that. All for now…
