London, Dublin etc

London

Temple Bar, Dublin

I have not blogged at all lately. It is because I have been in London since I last wrote from Madrid. I don’t know how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or Somerset Maugham did it but I find that life in London is just not conducive to writing.

We are on vacation with our children and therefore our days are consumed by visits to the parks and museums in London while our evenings are spent catching up with friends and sampling foods in different restaurants. If there is any time left, between these two commitments, it usually gets dispensed over shopping. Where then, is the time for someone to collect their thoughts and write them down?

Samuel Johnson famously said, “You find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. For there is in London, all that life can afford.”

I couldn’t agree more with Samuel Johnson for  one truly can never be tired of London though one can indeed be tired ‘in’ London, in my opinion. This city is so enchanting that it can be tiring.

I have longed to write about a spectacular ‘Ball gowns’ exhibition I saw at the Victoria and Albert museum. I have been equally keen to write about just how much I loathe my unavoidable trips to Madame Tussaud’s and M&M world, courtesy my kids. I wanted to write about the fabulous food of London, a true melting pot of all cultures. I wanted to write about just how lying about my age to myself won’t help me stay awake at a London nightclub. Most of all, I wanted to write about just how alive I feel in London.

Instead, I find myself writing about Dublin, Ireland. Yes sir, you heard right. I am in Dublin since last evening. At first I was unwilling to come to Ireland but marriage demands things of you that make you look forward to reincarnation with joy. Since Ireland was on the husband’s wish-list since a while, I bit the bullet and agreed to come here with the kids.

What helped me make this decision was the fact that the kids and I were granted only a 7 days  Schengen visa, even though neither of us have a known criminal record in any of the Schengen countries.

And so we found ourselves arriving into Ireland yesterday. I have had some very bemused looks from friends who were told that we are headed to this country for a week. Apparently, it isn’t very fashionable to go to Ireland. Most Indians explore the UK or head to Italy, France or Switzerland during the summer break. However, the Shroff family, with two moderately excited children and one grumpy looking wife was boarding a flight to Dublin. I was grumpy mostly because I am always grumpy when I am made to leave London.

Dublin seems a bit stark and harsh after London and I spent my first evening here trying to readjust my sensibilities. It has imposing medieval architecture and footprints of the Vikings and Celts all over but it lacks the sheen that is so natural to the capital cities of Europe. However, Dublin quickly makes up for that by being capital of the country that is home to writers like Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, James Joyce and GB Shaw. I am stating the obvious here but Dublin is also home to Guinness beer and the Old Jameson whiskey, which, I feel, might have had a heavy influence on the country’s rich literary talent, by the way.

Today was unexpectedly warm contrary to what CNN weather and my iphone weather app had predicted. I realized that I had not carried any summery footwear with me and to make matters worse, left behind my sneakers in London. You can only imagine what a sight for sore eyes I must have been as I walked around in my boots at the zoo, along with my well-clad children, in 25 degrees C today. When people were not busy looking at the gorillas and zebras at the zoo, they were busy looking at my feet.

There was only one way to stop feeling like a spectacle and start feeling spectacular and it came in the shape of a chilled beer mug at the Temple bar. By the time I met my cousin Ambrish and his lovely wife Aparna, who live in Dublin, over dinner, I had recovered my lost ‘spirits’. We spent a lovely, albeit brief evening together because along with my sneakers I had forgotten to carry pediatric Benadryl and Chloroform as well. Both are fairly useful, I am told, in calming down Indian kids. My kids were impatient and spent from the heat and since I could not drug them I had to bring them back to the hotel.

Tomorrow the Writers Museum and the Guinness factory await. But let me organize the chloroform first.