Are short-term lets sucking the lifeblood out of Ireland? The debate rages on, with a new data point to consider: you can now rent Bram Stoker’s house on Airbnb.
The Dracula author, the only true northsider among Dublin’s 19th-century literary greats, was born at 15 Marino Crescent, beside the aptly named Bram Stoker Park at the point where Clontarf, Fairview and Marino join.
The Crescent, built in 1792 by the enjoyably named Charles Ffolliott as a means of blocking his enemy’s view of Dublin Bay, is a pleasantly curved street of classic Georgian houses that seems a nice enough place to spend a Dublin holiday.
The Airbnb listing is disappointingly light on references to Count Dracula, citing instead “elegant sash windows” and “fresh towels” as selling points of the three-bed.
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Halloween is already unavailable, but a sample Thursday-to-Sunday stay in September would set you back €1,641. That’s €413.67 a night plus a €400 fee for professional cleaning – which seems a lot, but vampirism can be a messy business.
Seo libh canaig’
One of the more curious aspects of attending matches at Croke Park these days is the lecture that precedes the playing of the national anthem, chiding people for any cheering they might be tempted to do before the final word is sung.
“When we sing our national anthem before we play our national games, we take pride in our unique identity and the culture that has been entrusted to us,” says the disembodied voice of the GAA. “We all have a duty to honour that tradition and to set an example for others and for future generations to always give our anthem at our games the respect it deserves.”
Have modern fans lost their respect for true Gaels past, fallen under gunna scréach and lámhach na bpiléar? One other possible explanation: they don’t know the words.
Sinn Féin TD Conor D McGuinness has pointed out that Amhrán na bhFiann isn’t actually in the curriculum for Irish children, at primary or secondary level, something he considers “shameful”, “outrageous” and, of course, a “disgrace”.
In response to a parliamentary question from McGuinness, the Minister for Education Helen McEntee suggested that “curricular frameworks provide clear pathways for schools to include Amhrán na bhFiann”. They “might choose” to teach it in primary school history class or “could choose” to teach it under the heading of Song Singing in primary music class.
Secondary school history “enables study” of the anthem at various points, and in Junior or Leaving Cert music, students “may wish” to sing the anthem as part of their practical performance exam.
Which is all to say that, no, it is not on the curriculum.
“Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael are actively undermining Ireland’s republican heritage,” McGuinness said, citing also the possible conversion of the GPO into a shopping centre.
“Amhrán na bhFiann should be taught to every child in every school. It’s a basic expression of national identity and civic belonging.”
They could include a “no whooping during the second last line” rule on the curriculum while they’re at it.
The rocky road to Dublin
Meanwhile, Catherine Connolly, the left-wing Independent vying to inherit the Áras, is no stranger to the trappings of power. Though seen more often these days sailing through Galway on her trusty bicycle, the firebrand was once used to a more opulent mode of transport.
In 2004, as mayor of Galway, she racked up a bill of €650 – €900 or so in today’s money – on a trip in the mayoral car to see the county’s minor hurlers win the All-Ireland at Croke Park. Leaning on the services of Limo Corporate Hire Irl Ltd, as the Galway City Tribune reported at the time, she also paid €34.98 for waiting time.
Her markedly unsupportive deputy mayor at the time, Padraig Conneely, noted that it would have been cheaper to fly to Los Angeles – although the Galway minors weren’t playing there at the time.
Trips to Croke Park to see her county should be cheaper if she wins the presidency: it’s well within cycling distance up the North Circular Road.
Never say never
With choppy waters ahead and Ireland’s small boat at risk of being capsized once again by global waves, the Government has kept an important lifebuoy on hand. Remember The Gathering?
The 2013 ‘initiative’ largely entailed the diaspora being wheedled into coming to Ireland and spending money in order to lift the economy out of the doldrums.
Despite not offering anything in particular other than the general idea of welcome to affluent third-generation Irish-Americans, it did actually work. Fáilte Ireland’s final report found that around €21m of Government and third-party cash was spent to make an estimated €170m for the flagging economy, with 250,000 more tourists than would otherwise have been expected.
Like many a figure from folklore, The Gathering disappeared from view once its job was done, but it remains ready to creak back to life when it is needed most. The company set up by the government to run it is still alive, filing accounts, dormant but available if needed by tourism chiefs or ministers.
Its directors, according to its accounts, are Deborah Nolan and Michelle McEvoy, heads of operations and finance respectively at Fáilte Ireland, and it has assets, liabilities, income and expenditure of zero. For now.
Grimefighter
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a council worker? No – it’s Signsy, a masked man who has taken to cleaning up graffiti and grime on the streets of Northern Ireland.
A version of Superman who is more concerned with the cleanliness of the public realm than crime per se, he uses WD40 and the superpower of being willing to actually do it himself to return obscured road signs to their shining-metal glory, among other amazing feats.
“I’ve become a hero in disguise cleaning signs, graffiti and maybe even fixing some of the potholes that seem to be everywhere,” he told Belfast Live this week. “I may do it at any day any time in the cover of darkness to remain hidden.”
He uploads his resulting clean-up and repair videos to YouTube with his voice disguised and his face covered. He doesn’t have a cape “yet”, he says. He even pledges to tackle spray-painted slogans that “cause division within our community”.
A positive force for his locality no doubt. If he tires of anonymity, that combination of unity rhetoric and pothole-fixing ability sounds like electoral dynamite.
