Of Pubs & the Life therein

1.

I had changed train three times and it was my first trip to Dingle. The first train was half new, the second one was old and the third, you could say, was antique. I like old and antique things as long as they are still alive; this is one of many reasons why I love Ireland. Travelling in an Irish train can be a little like travelling in a museum, a living museum. That morning that train became particularly alive. The train had stopped in a small station south of Limerick and I looked out peacefully at the cows and sheep and let my mind drink deeply of dreams and desires. Suddenly, like a herd of charging bison, around forty Irish women, laughing, shouting and singing charged onto the train. Between their arms I noticed they were each holding something, a baby perhaps? But instead of newborn babes I saw they were clutching enormous cans of beer and bottles of whiskey. The carriage was completely full and even the space for my dreams and desires was abruptly and pleasantly invaded by the Amazons. They began shouting incomprehensible things at me, teasing and making fun of me and pressing drink on me. Normally I really enjoy good company and conversation but right then I confess I would have rather been left alone with my own thoughts and so I explained to them that I din't usually drink alcohol at 11.30 in the morning (but in the evening I made up for it). I asked them where they came from and how old they all were and they explained they were from Dublin and were on a three day outing to have good craic in Dingle. Their ages ranged from 18 to 75. I wondered what it was that had brought together so many women of such widely differing ages. Were they perhaps from a sports club? But judging by their faces and the bottles of beer, this didn't seem likely. Were they perhaps from some kind of feminist group? No they seemed too nice. Maybe a religious association? But they didn't have the chaste, pure appearance, not even the seventhy-five year old. "Well then", I asked, "how come you all get together like this - you're all different ages and with different backgrounds" and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, they replied, "Because we all drink in the same pub".

2.

They say that the Irish spend too much time in pubs, drinking and singing, and that they don't want to work. Did they really think that the Irish, as soon as they had finally won freedom, after centuries under English domination, would become slaves to work?

3.

They say that Mozart didn't really die at 35 but at 115; in reality, he escaped to Ireland and after having learned to play the pipes and the harp, he lived on another 80 happy years, dancing and singing and drinking porter.

4.

I'd like to remind all of those many Europeans and very few Irish who think they are well educated because they dislike pubs and prefer restaurants, museum and splendid houses, that the classical culture they have received at school wasn't born in the museums, in the academies or in a stately homes but in the "pubs" of ancient Greece, in the "Agora", in the town square, the market, the casual encounter; 'culture' is studied at school, but is born in the pub!

5.

Those who claim indignantly that bars and pubs, songs and dances have little to do with spirituality, I remind them that Jesus' first miracle wasn't the curing of the sick or the raising of the dead, but trasforming the water into wine at a party.

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