They do things differently in Ireland so don’t be surprised to get blocked by oul biddies standing in the middle of the pool.
The Grand Hotel where said oul biddies congregate is an institution in the coastal town of Malahide, nine miles north of Dublin.
An old favourite of ours, it is getting a makeover when we revisit, in need of their legendary Sunday carvery.
Only to find that the new American owners have packed it away in favour of fine dining in the restaurant.
Which means we hold our family reunion in the bar.
Though to be fair their seafood is of the supersized variety and is so fresh it could be aroused if you only wagged its tail.
A stroke of luck
We arouse ourselves too after a night of reminiscing, for a reviving swim in the hotel’s Arena health club, across the pathway.
Where Fionnuala and Bridgid obviously like to meet for their catch-up, bang in the middle of one of the swimming lanes.
Standing up and wagging their tails as they bellyache.
And blocking this breastroker’s passage to the other end.
Not that they’re in any way acting differently to those who actually swim.
As I’m given out to for catching one of them with my back-kick.
Bullish in the Irish Sea
Better then if you have the whole sea to swim in as the North Dublin Swim club enjoy.
Off Bull Island, an idyllic 5-mile stretch off Clontarf, and a magnet for golfers, twitchers and dog walkers.
As well as sea swimmers, who pump up the volume and their boom box.
And brave the chilly, but reviving waters, all against the background of the Doonbeg Chimneys.
Out There
All power to them as I was rarely brave enough in our 13 years in Ireland to test the waters.
Jumping in as quickly as I entered the iconic Forty Foot Dublin Bay bathing area in Dún Laoghaire, cited in James Joyce’s Ulysses.
Pride of place in the queue at the one shed/cafe on Bull island Happy Out should, of course, go to the plucky swimmers,
Only they are still drying off when we arrive.
Happy Out is friendly, attentive, our Scrambled Egg with bacon pots take the good part of 25 minutes.
Feathered friends
And our new chum in the hide that now constitutes the indoor eating area helps himself to some of that.
But we can’t be churlish, this is Stanny Starling and his feathered friends’ island and we are only visitors.
It is too Fionnuala and Brigid’s land so they are entitled to stand around in the middle of the pool if they please.
Because I am still, despite my 13 years in Ireland and Irish ancestry a blow-in.
Although if I do follow Daughterie’s lead and get myself an Irish passport as is my due I will get a full say.
And then you’ll have something to worry about.
A night’s classic twin room for two at the Grand is from €155 per night.