“It’s always the people you miss the most, about anything,” Liz Meldon says on a recent return to the place she built a community around, which is gone now.
Hercules Club was something of an anomaly when it was born in 1934. Its spirit has endured.
Clive Shannon used to play for the RTÉ symphony orchestra. These days he plays at Urban Plant Life on Cork Street.
Members of the same family have lived in this iconic building, or earlier incarnations of it, in Temple Bar since the 1600s.
Patrick Nelis visits the Residential Tenancies Board most days, sometimes twice a day, to argue cases for tenants. He didn’t always do this. He used to work with horses.
“Batter man or something. I don’t know what they call me.”
Gavin Mee kept travelling and gigging and loving right up to the end, even as his heart was failing him.
There is something of a ritual most mornings in the magazine section of Eason on O’Connell Street.
The painter’s work depicts his family life: playing FIFA on Xbox, falling asleep in front of the TV, and tying his shoes without help from the father he’s never met, who is the reason people often ask him where he’s from.
“They’re made for dancing,” says Tessie Carroll, pointing to the high heels the woman inspects before leaving empty-handed. “Jaysus, if you brought gold here they’d want silver.”