I’VE had an old Irish folk song stuck in my head all week – the tale of farmer Michael Hayes, whose story reads like an 1800s version of Catch Me If You Can. After being evicted from his farm in Tipperary, Hayes took matters into his own hands with tragic consequences, leading to a dramatic chase across the country that would later be immortalised in song.
The pursuit of Hayes became something of a Victorian-era media sensation, with telegraph messages flying and reward money mounting as he managed to stay one step ahead of the authorities. Despite their best efforts – and this is where I always smile imagining the scene – scores of exhausted policemen were left floundering in his wake as he made his way to freedom in America.
It’s a dark chapter of Irish history transformed into an almost comedic epic through traditional storytelling, with verses that pile up like the mounting frustration of his pursuers. The tale has been kept alive through various renditions over the years, including the memorable version by Planxty in 1979.
There’s a reason this old folk song has been stuck in my head all week, I think. I’ve been engaged in my own pursuit – not of a fugitive farmer, but of an elusive carpenter who promised to install our kitchen months ago and has been doing a Michael Hayes-level vanishing act ever since.
With every unanswered WhatsApp, I find myself humming the tune. Each ignored voicemail about delivery dates for white goods leads to another verse playing in my mind, as our phantom tradesman appears to be traversing the country with the same impressive geographic range as Hayes himself – from Poolbeg to Cape Clear, and everywhere in between.
It got me thinking – with Room To Improve flagging, perhaps it’s time for RTÉ to reimagine the classic BBC show Treasure Hunt with a modern twist. Picture this: Find The Tradesman – where desperate homeowners chase after ghosting contractors via helicopter across Ireland. You could have Anneka Rice-style jumpsuited presenters pursuing plumbers through the midlands, tracking electricians across Connemara, and hunting down retrofit companies in the suburbs of south Dublin. Now there’s a Sunday night show I’d watch. Though I suspect our carpenter might be too hard to catch.
Too gritty to be great?
MY kids are thoroughly citified at this stage and absolutely love their Dublin lives. Any time I’ve floated the notion of relocating to Cork or somewhere in the midlands, I’ve been met with howls of protest. They’re entrenched in their schools, their activities, their friend groups – all the touchstones that make up a happy childhood.
But there are rare weeks when I seriously question whether we made the right choice in raising them here. This past week in Dublin has been one of those times. With random stabbings in Stoneybatter, followed by a murder on South Anne Street and terrifying tales of gangland torture squads dominating the headlines, there have been moments when I’ve found myself pining desperately for the relative peace of West Cork.
Just yesterday, I took the two kiddos to see Dogman at the 4DX cinema in town. They had an absolute ball with the moving seats and special effects, but the journey home gave me pause. Walking from the cinema to catch our bus on O’Connell Street, we passed within metres of where those horrific creche attacks occurred last year – events that sparked riots and exposed some ugly undercurrents in our capital city. There was also an unmistakable edge to proceedings around the Parnell Street area. The kids were blissfully unaware but my eyes were tracking every passer-by.
The truth is, we spend most of our time in the relative safety of our suburb, venturing into town only occasionally. You make an unspoken deal with any major city – you’ll tolerate its grittier aspects in exchange for the increased opportunities, culture, and experiences it provides. But this week, for the first time in a long time, the balance of those scales tipped decidedly in the wrong direction.
It’s a complex equation – weighing the undeniable advantages of city life against its darker elements. Most days, the maths works out in Dublin’s favoru. But sometimes, like this week, the sums don’t quite add up, and the thought of home becomes powerfully appealing. Bring on August and the summer holidays.
I’m turning (to) Japanese
IN Dublin’s defence, our local restaurant Senbazuru has been a revelation.
This self-described 4D dining experience has introduced my kids to the wonders of Japanese cuisine through a delightful mix of technology and tradition. Full-length underwater projections wrap the walls – great whites glide by as we enjoy our Norimaki, stingrays soar past during our tempura and gyoza.
The highlight for the kids? A robot waiter that delivers food to be served by the wonderful human staff.
Sometimes dirty Dublin still has the power to surprise and delight.
