A sense of place

Went for a stroll last evening around the streets of Drimnagh and saw this balloon trapped within the phone wires. No doubt there is a child somewhere quite distraught. The five seconds of stunned silence as they follow the trajectory, then tears. I watched the balloon struggle to break free and float across the big blue on a great adventure. Sadly,it remained trapped. In a way this reminded me of the end of childhood and the grounding of maturity.

The suburb of Drimnagh dates back to the 30's and is situated in Dublin South, close to the city centre. It is solid working class. The area is interlaced with narrow streets, so narrow that in places you could practically reach across and touch your neighbours house. Pride and sense of community run deeply here.

During the Summer evenings the streets are busy with kids kicking football, mowers runnning and lots of chat. These sounds always remind me of my childhood growing up on the far side of the city. All those the long summer evenings that never seemed to end.

The marathon football games with the score crucially balanced at "twenty all", till the shadow of my Mother at the garden gate brought the game to an abrupt end. A quick supper and then to bed, then up early and wolf down breakfast to disappear in a friends garden and work on a den. Not a care, only adventures.

Leaving Dublin for a life in the country a good few years ago, I became a commuter. Some evenings I stay over in Drimnagh and with the window open I listen to the sounds. It always fill me with a sense of place.