Dublin parking rip-off

€60 per hour to park in suburban Dublin? Amazing as it might seem that was the going rate in Ranelagh on Friday 19th January. In case you think I’m exaggerating, look at the photo. I paid €2 at 14.58. The ticket expiry time was 15.00. That’s two minutes parking for two euros. I asked a passing guard about it. He found it amusing but could do nothing. He suggested leaving a note on the windscreen, which I did. He said if I was clamped they’d probably come and remove it, once I explained. I couldn’t afford to wait around to be wheel-clamped and then de-clamped (maybe) so I cut my meeting short and left. Most of the parking bays on the road were unoccupied. I wonder why? Have any of the local businesses noticed the effects of this draconian parking regime? Does anybody care?

Boycott Aer Lingus' anti business travel policy

Aer Lingus has declared war on business travellers. They’ve introduced new hand-baggage restrictions which make it virtually impossible to avoid checking-in your bag. So what, you might ask? Forget the added cost for a minute, there’s the sheer inconvenience of having to wait in some draughty baggage hall at both ends of your journey while the baggage mis-handlers delay/damage/steal your possessions (delete as appropriate).

Lots of airlines charge for checked-in baggage. That’s not the issue. The problem is the ridiculously low weight restrictions Aer Lingus has imposed. A quick comparison of various airlines ( including airlines serving European routes outside Ireland) shows Aer Lingus now has the most restrictive hand-baggage weight limits in Europe. What sort of customer service is this?

Imagine you’re frequent traveller on business to London, Paris or Brussels for a few nights, a common event. You pack your bag with some overnight things, a few changes of clothes, some files, a laptop and a few other items. It requires experience and skill to keep this all down to about 8-9 kilos. Believe me. I know. I’ve been doing it for years. Like most frequent business travellers, I use a wheelie bag smaller than the permitted dimensions so as to avoid having to wait at the baggage carousel when I arrive. Ryanair allows a single piece of hand-luggage up to 10 Kilos. BMI and British Airways impose the standard size limit but have no formal weight restriction for hand-luggage ( a common practice among European scheduled carriers and low-cost airlines alike). Aer Lingus has imposed a draconian limit of 6Kilos above which baggage must be checked-in and paid for, regardless of size.

I have not been able to find another European airline with such a restrictive weight allowance and most come nowhere near it!

Even if you accept the added expense there is the inconvenience of having to wait in the baggage hall at both ends of your journey and the worry that fragile and important items such as laptops i-pods etc might be damaged or pilfered. I recently had the experience of having a case emerge literally “shredded” off a trans-Atlantic flight so this is a very real concern.

Business travellers are generally pretty tired of the constant searches and harassment, the delays and inefficiency which are now part of the travelling experience. Now we are to have more delay and more expense courtesy of Aer Lingus. I think not. It’s time business travellers fought back. There’s no point in complaining to the airline. They couldn’t care less. Hit them where it hurts. Boycott Aer Lingus until they remove these crazy anti-business restrictions on carry-on luggage.

Tell them where to stuff their draconian limits and take your business elsewhere. Even if only a small percentage of frequent travellers switch their business to less customer-unfriendly organisations we can send Aer Lingus a powerful message. Stuff your hand baggage limits and stuff your airline while you’re at it!

Irish Democracy R.I.P.

I was beginning to warm to Enda Kenny. He has a gentlemanly air of integrity, rare in politics, not just in Ireland. He already had one hand on the keys of office when Bertie stood beside Charlie Haughey’s grave and gave a tearful impression of wanting to jump in after his old boss and mentor. Wise old Fianna Fail heads are still trying to calculate what good Bertie thought would come from his fulsome praise for the arch-chancer. The country was debating this conundrum when Bertie’s shenanigans in Manchester were exposed to public view. The plan people of Ireland were still mulling over these developments when Justice Morris set-off the greatest judicial salvo in modern times.

Enda would have been justified in starting to think about ministerial appointments. Bertie, Haughey’s bagman, was badly tainted and now his master’s crimes against democracy were exposed. What choice would the electorate have but to vote for change? Enda ought to have plunged the dagger but he pulled his punches instead. He settled for his mug-shot on a few posters, looking like the contented cat who got the cream, until civil war broke out in Fine Gael. We’re used to bloodletting after the election debacle but this is a first. The party wants us to know it’s thinking of dumping its leader before the general election has even been called. The foot-soldiers of destiny can barely hide their grins. Who promised what in the dead of night to produce this stroke of good fortune?

Mr Deasy, TD for Waterford, is up there along with Dermot McMorrough and the IRA army council in the betrayal stakes. What’s his game-plan? Leadership of the Fine Gael party can’t be part of it. Whatever ambitions he might have had in that direction are as healthy as last year’s Christmas turkey. Enda Kenny’s chances of getting the top job are not much better. Who’s going to believe in a leader whose own troops are in rebellion?
There’s little time for recovery. The damage is done. Ireland’s peculiar one-party concept of democracy is, barring unimaginable disasters, secure for another parliamentary term. So what’s the point in holding elections at all? Why not save ourselves the effort and expense? We all know the outcome. Charlie Haughey’s apprentice, heir to his master’s political estates, will carry on regardless. Climbing trees in north Dublin and signing blank cheques did him no harm after all.
There might be some benefit from this shambles if the electors turned their fire on the opposition and threw them out, Kenny, Deasy and the rest. If Fine Gael can’t offer an alternative government after the tribunals, the clear evidence of thieving and corruption, and a seriously unbalanced economy, they deserve nothing less. Democracy needs a viable opposition, a government in waiting, and Ireland doesn’t have one. The Labour Party’s pathetic contribution to this democratic disaster is to hint they might throw their lot in with Bertie after the election. Is that the best our political system can offer? Fine Gael were given a severe warning at the last election. If this democracy business is too complicated for them it’s time to put them out of their misery, in the national interest. With FG off the stage the PD’s might become a proper political party rather than the moral wing of Fianna Fail. They could turn themselves into a credible alternative government while Labour spend the next Dail fondling Bertie’s “socialist” credentials in the back of the government car.
As Yeats might have said;
‘Democratic Ireland’s dead and gone, It’s with Charles Haughey in the grave.’

The walls of Belfast

At a recent meeting in London, to discuss the Hungarian uprising of 1956, I found myself sitting next to the jovial MP for Daventry, Tim Boswell, chairman of the all party Anglo-Hungarian parliamentary group. We spoke briefly before the meeting and again afterwards. The 1956 uprising has always held a particular interest for me since the day my father brought me, as a small boy, to see the military camp in Co. Clare where Hungarian refugees were housed. I mentioned this, in conversation, after the meeting and there was some surprise to hear the Irish state had shown such generosity towards the Hungarians. It is regarded as axiomatic that Britain should adopt a paternalistic interest in foreign conflicts, while taking a more partisan line in problems closer to home. My English companions struggled to comprehend what foreign policy interest Ireland could have in distant central European conflicts. They were less than delighted when I explained it was natural for Ireland, itself recovering from centuries of oppression, to welcome the rebels who fought Soviet tanks with their bare hands. Boswell took it well and launched into a familiar recital of English weariness at the intractability of “Irish politics”. I posed a question which often confuses English interlocutors, “you mean English politics in Ireland, don’t you?”
I have often heard it said in England that Irish politics are rigid and inflexible but when I ask whether the speaker is referring to Fianna Fail or Fine Gael they are often genuinely confused. Most have never heard of these organisations and few have any idea what they stand for. When English commentators, even well informed people like the MP for Daventry, talk about Irish politics they are referring to the age-old divisions within Northern Ireland. When I point out that they are complaining about the politics of the part of Ireland that Britain still controls they show signs of irritation at being confronted with an inconvenient truth. The fact is that politics in the republic look much the same as any other European democracy, a volatile mixture of self-interest, principle and skulduggery. It is striking to consider that nearly a century after the division of Ireland the southern republic has moved on, converted its poisoned inheritance into something positive and made a success of itself while the north, still tied into the United Kingdom, is an economic and political failure, mired in ancient feuds and divisions. Seventeen years after the fall of the Berlin wall and the final liberation of Hungary, the authorities in Belfast consider it necessary to maintain high “peace walls” to keep the warring communities from tearing each other apart.
Is it fair to characterise the failure of Northern Ireland as due to some inflexibility in “Irish” politics? I think not. Northern Irish politics perhaps but Irish, no. There are deep-seated structural problems within Northern Ireland and the constitutional link with Britain is at the heart of all of them. It is the British controlled part of Ireland which has failed and the rigidity, which so many British commentators complain of, is a symptom of that failure. It is a failure of British politics, made in Britain by Britons. Britain must dig deep into its reserves of patience, time and treasure to solve it or at least manage it in a civilised fashion, and stop complaining about “Irish” politics.

S.O.S. Dun Laoghaire seafront

I took the air at Dun Laoghaire thinking it might clear my head but my stroll was interrupted by a polite but insistent chap handing out leaflets bearing the alarming slogan S.O.S. in bold type. I normally throw these things away but there was no litter bin and I’m far too green around the gills these days to drop it on the promenade so I made the mistake of glancing at the damned thing. Save Our Seafront was the urgent message. It seems like such a simple, inoffensive appeal nobody could argue with it, could they? Well, I can, for one.
The idea of salvation has deep roots in our culture. Think of a man in a long white beard and green cloak lighting fires on hilltops and banishing snakes and you’re on the right track. Fire ‘n brimstone preachers, rosary beads and the dark confessional are all part of our collective consciousness, whether you like them or not. We are bombarded with appeals to save all manner of things, whales, birds (feathered variety), Africa, Antarctica, the marching season. So susceptible are we that all it takes is for some deranged nutter to mount a podium and demand we save the scrapings from his grandmother’s bathtub and all criticism is suspended without further comment or enquiry.
Enough I say. It’s time we sought relief from this salvation nonsense. A line must be drawn. A stand must be made. This far and no further. What better way to turn back the tide of tosh than to take a critical look at that foul, stinking relic, Dun Laoghaire baths?
The baths in question are a crumbling reminder of a long-past age when riding the train out to Dun Laoghaire for a dip was a treat as great as a modern weekend-break to Barcelona or Malaga. The baths were constructed in the 1930’s when the idea of outdoor bathing was in its heyday. It seems hardly polite to mention that this was part of a wider cult of mass-physical fitness and exercise much favoured by the fascists. Hitler and Mussolini were admirers. So was Franco. No doubt there were more than a few blue shirts hanging on hooks in the gents’ changing rooms while their owners disported their bare flesh in the cold Celtic sun back in the good old days.
Smaller examples of outdoor baths can be found at Blackrock and elsewhere around the country. Corbally baths on the Shannon near Limerick is another example which, like all the others, has fallen into disuse and decay. The Brits had them. France had them too, still has a few, in fact. They have the weather for that sort of thing but, even there, outdoor baths have given way to modern health-spas and all-weather facilities.
The truth is that outdoor bathing in our cold climate is about as popular as a party political broadcast. The fad lasted as long as there was nothing better on offer but as soon as Ryanair and modern health spas took-off the open-air baths became the favoured haunt of rats and exhibitionists. The place is bricked-up now, closed to the public for safety reasons so it’s less than useless. The ruins are an eyesore and an impediment to anyone who’d like to take a stroll along the seafront.
No amount of wishful thinking, or public money, will revive a fashion whose time is long past. The baths died not because of any malign policy or official neglect. They died because people stopped using them and there is no sign they will ever come back in numbers sufficient to justify the investment needed to re-open them. I rarely sympathise with politicians but on this issue they have an unenviable task. The S.O.S. brigade are talking nonsense and should be told to get lost but politicians are easily intimidated by noisy protesters. The “saviours” should be required to show how much their daft proposals would cost and then ask the public in clear terms to cough-up for facilities nobody wants, in the form of higher taxation. Where is the politician with courage, or integrity enough, to face down the distopian nutters? Come on you politicians. Let’s get the Throw Out Tosh (T.O.T.) campaign underway without delay. There’s your slogan. I’ll lend it to you free, gratis and for nothing. I can’t say fairer than that now can I?

Show us the way

How many times have you had to stop at a junction to have a close look at the road-signs (if any) and try to figure out where you are while other cars wait impatiently behind you? How many times have you driven past the sign only to find you're going the wrong way and need to turn back? Irish road signs are so bad they ought to be considered a form of post-modernist conceptual art. Giving directions is a very low priority. The main idea seems to be to explore the boundaries of experience by forcing us to stop and consider all sorts of uncomfortable possibilities. Are you going the right way? Are you on the right road? Is it really worth the effort? Are you in the right country at all?
I was driving in Wicklow recently, aiming to get to the main N11 Dublin road. You might expect the way to the main highway to be displayed on directional signs but there's no mention of it anywhere so I aimed for Ashford. I came across the sign in the photo at a T-junction. It shows the way to Ashford, but not until you're already past the middle of the junction. These old fashioned signs were designed in the days of horse-drawn transport when people would gather at the cross-roads for a chat. The sign pointing left obscures the one pointing forward so you have to drive past it to see where you're going. I stopped to check directions and found myself one of three drivers, all facing different ways, all equally confused. This is a great way of encouraging human contact at road junctions but perhaps this is not the ideal place to make new acquiantances. It's just a bit too close and too fast for comfort. This is hardly a safe or informative way of marking directions. It makes you wonder why would anyone bother putting up signs like this? Directions are needed ahead of the junction, not at or after it. Who's responsible for these crazy signs? Is anyone responsible?

Ireland of the welcomes

Returning to Ireland after many years abroad is a strange experience. I know, I’ve tried it recently and it’s not much fun.

Coming back is more difficult than arriving in a new country for the first time. I can only imagine what new immigrants make of the place but the returning exile has the added twist of remembering what the place was like before. Any expectations I had of finding a friendly and civilised place were shattered soon after arrival. I find myself comparing the present with old memories like someone clinging to pathetic bits of ancient luggage.

The old place was shambolic, inefficient and dirty. So nothing much has changed then, you might say? Things have changed almost beyond recognition, in some respects for the better, but in some ways definitely for the worse. The old informality and friendliness has been replaced with a frantic scramble for wealth (or survival). Civility is forgotten. Daily life in Dublin and the commuter belt is marked by levels of aggression that would put New Yorkers to shame. So much energy is devoted to pursuing careers and advancement there has been a noticeable loss of respect for the individual. People who have little respect for themselves have none at all for anyone else. Serious violent crime is so common it's hardly noticed.

Sources of public information and help which are freely available in other countries hardly exist in Ireland. Try inquiring about the relative merits of various schools from official sources. It’s an experience which tells a lot about the contemptuous attitude of the Irish public “service” towards the people it allegedly serves. Try claiming your right to reciprocal treatment under the EU social provisions in the Irish healthcare sector and you will experience a level of official contempt more suited to a serial criminal.

One might expect the country, having shaken off the poverty of the past, would be a more confident, happier place. Wealth and progress are to be celebrated, after all. It is an unpleasant surprise that Irish society, having had a massive injection of capital, resources and people, is now going through a kind of adolescent phase with all the attitude and identity problems that implies. Old nostrums about national identity and character have lost their meaning. Some of this is welcome. The old Ireland was smug, introverted and frustrating for all but a favoured elite, but the chaos which has replaced it is hardly much better. There is work to be done in creating a new concept of national identity, one which is dynamic, transcends racial boundaries and, above all, is capable of delivering happiness and fulfilment. Irish people, like people everywhere, need more than purely monetary wealth if the country is to continue to progress and develop successfully.

The past serves as a very poor guide to the future in early 21st century Ireland. The middle class has exploded in numbers while accumulating previously unimaginable wealth and sophistication. Internationally mobile commuters spread their work and domestic lives across national boundaries. Vast numbers of wage-slaves crawl in huge migrations back and forth across the country each day. The most culturally significant wave of immigration since the arrival of the Tuatha de Danaan has provided us with Brazilian football teams in Galway, Russian and Chinese newspapers in Dublin and large Polish communities in Cork and Limerick. All these newly emerging forces, and many others, are jostling for position. There are few navigation points in national culture or history to guide us in this strange new world so we must make up new ones fitted to current and future needs.

One of the happier surprises is that the spirit of civility and neighbourliness which used to be a hallmark of Irishness still survives in the remoter parts of the country and, notably, in Northern Ireland. There are still many intractable political and economic problems in the North but the basic elements of civilised life are more freely available than one might expect after all the years of hostility and destruction. Northern Ireland in 2007 bears out an old Irish notion that wealth is not merely a question of accumulating money. Personal happiness and fulfilment are at least as important.

Being an Irish exile in Ireland gives me a unique perspective but I cannot help wondering about the experiences of foreigners arriving here for the first time. I have heard some appalling stories of hardship and some gratifying tales of kindness being extended to people in need, scattered signs perhaps that all is not lost in the scramble to ride the Celtic Tiger.
I intend to produce a more updates, focusing on specific areas such as health, transport, economics etc. Comments & ideas welcome.

Dublin, jewel or junk-yard?

There is much self-satisfied talk about Dublin’s urban renewal. The Docklands development is worth a look and the scale, if not the form, of the expanding western suburbs is impressive. Dubliners, however, seem to be blind to the fact, quite striking to a visitor, that much of the city is semi-derelict and bears more than a passing resemblance to a third-world slum. This is particularly evident on the north-side. The old Georgian streets are cracked and decayed. Weeds grow on the pavements, on roofs and gutters. Look behind the crumbling facades and you will see real dereliction. Take a train from anywhere north of Clontarf southwards towards Lansdowne Road and you will see possibly the ugliest urban landscape on the planet. Some of the most decrepit sights are just a short distance from the bustling prosperity of the IFSC (on both sides of the river).
The heritage industry insists we must preserve Georgian Dublin but the fact is that the architecture of that period was all about keeping-up appearances. It was built like a film set, splendid from the front but a bedraggled and neglected eyesore from the rear. Travellers on the Dart get a devastatingly clear behind-the-scenes view as does anyone with the curiosity to leave the main streets and lave a look around. Georgian Dublin was never intended as a living city in the modern sense. It was built for the enjoyment of the 18th century imperial ruling class, keen to create a favourable impression among their peers but totally disinterested in the "warts-and-all" view available to the lower orders, out of sight, around the back. The Dukes and Lords and their hangers-on have long gone but the city is still scarred by their conceit. It must be possible to preserve what is worthwhile of Georgian Dublin's facades while clearing-up the appalling back-lot but it will take some courage and commitment in the face of the conservationist lobby. It’s long past time the task was taken in hand.