THERE are some days when I wonder why I live in Dublin but most of the time I never regret it. Last weekend was particularly lively and interesting, with gigs and events all around us. Fairview Park, which is within earshot of my house, had a rake of concerts blaring out music until 10pm every evening. Blur were up the road in Malahide Castle. Dermot Kennedy was playing Marlay Park on the southside. I got to cycle down to the 3Arena to catch Peter Gabriel on Sunday evening, one of the finest concerts I’ve ever seen.
The weather was gorgeous all week too, bar the odd thunderstorm, and the kids had a packed agenda of playdates and workshops and family gatherings. Summer was in the air.
This was topped off by my first meeting with my old West Cork compadre Fachtna, who I’ve known since I was four years old, and we met in a city centre pub to catch up about life and raise our hopes about the Cork footballers. It happens every time – we start off joking about how it’s the hope that kills you, but after a few hours (and a few pints) we had convinced ourselves that we’ll be bringing Sam back to Clon in September.
The following day, Cork beat Roscommon and we were on WhatsApp again, getting completely carried away with ourselves. We’ll never change.
From Tubs to Trumps
THE kids have reached the age where they are starting to pick up bits and pieces from the news.
Ours is a house where the radio is almost always on, so it’s inevitable they might overhear the odd snippet and sometimes they hear reports that are not for their ears. Inevitably this results in me diving across the room at full length to slam the off button.
Their chief concerns, however, seem to emanate from the playground, where some of the daftest, weirdest conspiracy theories emerge.
My daughter (five) asked me last Tuesday whether ‘tornados ever come in Ireland?’ I told her they don’t (even though I have a niggle that we get random localised ones every now and again, usually in Donegal for some reason). It turns out her friends had been saying that they are going to be taken off to Mexico in a tornado. I told her that the weather in Ireland is nothing to worry about and we carried on our way, mindful of our weird monsoon summer and the weird lack of vegetables on the shelves of my local market.
In recent months my son (eight) has been asking me if Donald Trump is ever coming to Ireland. He was a bit fearful and said someone told him that Trump is coming here and he’ll be bringing loads of guns. I tried to reassure him. I told him that Trump does come to Ireland every now and again but the most lethal thing he carries, apart from his mouth, is a set of golf clubs. Notwithstanding the fact that the blob has the capacity to bring down American democracy, I assure my son that he has nothing to worry about. Trump is harmless in the big scheme of things, I say. I even start believing it myself.
Of course, both my eight-year-old and five-year-old are aware of some evil character called Putin in Russia. They both know he’s doing bad things to the Ukrainians. And they’ve both seen enough baddies in cartoons to understand the archetype. I agree that Putin is evil but I always try to qualify this by saying that it’s nothing to do with ordinary Russians. He’s just a bad guy, a bully, and the good guys are going to sort him out in the long run.
Of course, part of me worries that Michael D will appear around the corner and accuse me of furthering the cause of Nato and the wider military-industrial complex. You have to be very careful what you say these days.
It’s funny how talking to your kids strips things down to their fundamentals.
Just last week, my son and daughter were sitting on the couch before bed and the question popped out of my son’s mouth ‘Why is Ryan Tubridy in trouble?’
I took a deep breath. Where do I begin, I thought?
You have to remember that Ryan Tubridy holds a very important place in the hearts of Irish kids. He’s the toy guy, after all. The Toy Show is arguably one of the most powerful and popular instances of public service broadcasting for kids in the world.
I tried to explain that RTÉ, the channel Ryan works for, is owned by us and that some people at the channel were dishonest about what he was getting paid.
When it got down to the basics it was very simple to explain the problem. I didn’t need to go into details about barter accounts, the executive board, or Dee Forbes.
The people we were supposed to rely on let us down.
In the small context of playground rumours, and the wider story of AI and fake news that is stretching democracy as we know it, the role of RTÉ and people like the ‘toy guy’ become ever more important. Things need a serious shake-up at the national broadcaster, but let’s hope we don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Rick Astley ‘joins’ AC/DC
SOMETIMES in life, you gotta play the long game.
I try to expose my kids to decent music at all times and there is a menu of rock and pop classics on a loop here in the house. Somehow, despite all my best efforts, the person they seem to be most aware of from my ‘era’ is Rick Astley, who they think is absolutely hilarious for some reason.
I have no idea how this has come to pass.
Astley is living his best life if last week’s Glastonbury is anything to go by.
He appeared onstage to rapturous applause doing a set of Smiths covers and appeared again later playing the drums and singing AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.
Who would have thought Rick Astley would end up being cooler than Morrissey?
