I was there years ago when it was only a small bit bigger than a small town. Dundrum Town Centre has more shops now than small cities have.
was a shopper’s assistant for two days – and slowly but surely the life force has come back into my exhausted body since then. The reason I went back the second day was to help return a dress. Not mine, mind. Not that there’s anything wrong with men wearing dresses.
Shopping can be debilitating when you’re not used to it. Herself often says: “How come you can stay going all day when it comes to going off to football and rugby matches but a few minutes’ shopping has you ready to collapse?”.
It was warm in the shopping centre. I was tired and there were some very comfortable sofas, so I nodded off. A busybody pronounced me dead.
I am fairly sure she took my pulse. I was in the netherworld of half-awake, half-asleep. She did catch me by the wrist and shook me.
“Are you all right, Billy?” she asked. I admit to being just a tad cranky. “No, I was asleep. That’s why my eyes were closed.” She seemed slightly disappointed I wasn’t killed off by the shops.
“You don’t look well,” she said. Now I know why men snore. It goes back to pre-history, as the women were always waking the man to go hunting and gathering or to check if we were alive.
So as a defence mechanism we men invented snoring. The worst part is when we deny snoring and the accuser provides video evidence. Videoing a snoring man should be an offence. Soon enough, the women will be wearing body-cams going to bed. Is nowhere sacred?
The shopping took its toll even though I only went into a couple of places. My friend, who hates shopping as much as I do, told me his partner advised him “to offer it up”. This means he should offer up his suffering to God by way of atonement for sinners who ran up a deficit.
I am aware many women also hate shopping, but not that many. Young lads are mad for shopping. And grooming. Back in the day, if you had a second pair of Levi’s you were a fashionista. I only looked in the mirror twice in the 1980s when you were considered a bit on the odd side if you grew a beard. I noticed several younger men with several bags.
I sat on the toilet and dozed off again. There is something very soothing about sleeping in a toilet. The sounds of the water flushing from tap and cistern is like taking a nap by the Meeting of the Waters in the Vale of Avoca
The first shop up from the labyrinth of car parks was small and the girl behind the counter was very friendly.
The cranky man was asked if he wanted a bag for his newspaper. I was kind of turned against him straight away because he didn’t buy the Indo.
The cranky man reneged on the whole transaction because he was being charged for the bag. Off he went in a huff.
I was going to say: “Did you know the world is about to get rid of itself?”
Sushi. Photo: Getty Images
By the look of him I would he say he had plenty. His coat alone caused the killing of a flock of sheep, and him complaining about being fleeced. There was a man playing polo on his left breast. The Dublin girl in Tuthills Newsagents was lovely. She was the first person I met and set the tone.
The people who were working in the shopping centre came from all over the world. Every one of them was nicer than the next. We’d be lost only for the new Irish. The man from Africa who took my order in the food hall was all smiles. Two Japanese chefs were making sushi in Umai. I have loved Japanese food ever since a trip to Japan for the Rugby World Cup four years ago.
Superb, it was, and only 11-something for a bento box on weekdays.
The bento box had a portion of delicious coconut curry, two pieces of crispy fried squid, two pieces of freshly rolled sushi – all made up there and then by the chefs, as easily as if they were rolling a cigarette. Throw in rice, boiled fluffy and light. The dinner would do you all day.
I needed another rest after that feast. Food makes me tired. I could still have a touch of a Covid hangover and the heat was unrelenting. But where could I find peace and cool?
I sat on the toilet and dozed off again. There is something very soothing about sleeping in a toilet. The sounds of the water flushing from tap and cistern is like taking a nap by the Meeting of the Waters in the Vale of Avoca.
The centre is probably well known to most of you, but to me it was the symbol of a better-off Ireland
The phone call woke me up. Where are you?
The beautiful young girl was on her first day in the new job.
She was from a place where they speak Spanish, but not from Spain. The young girl was nervous. It’s tough facing into a new country and trying to find your way.
She was so polite and her English was good. I was worried for her.
What would she think if she read of the anti-immigration protests? Or what if she was the victim of racism when some brave Irish hero called her names?
I wandered around for a couple of hours. The centre is probably well known to most of you, but to me it was the symbol of a better-off Ireland. And, yes, I know there are people who cannot afford to shop, but it’s still nice to see jobs and commercial successes.
It was mid-term break and groups of young girls went shopping. They were unfailingly polite.
I called to the Ecco shoe shop. The girl who served me was patient.
I have this bunion and can only wear wide-fitting soft shoes.
She really knew her stuff.
The girl was new Irish and I owe her an apology. There was a pair of shoes that were like walking on air. But at the last minute I changed my mind. She was so polite.
I got to thinking I can get soft, wide shoes off Con Whelan in Listowel.
The coffee perked me up and then I found a lovely outdoor section, on a sunny spring morning.
The air revived me and so I soldiered on, up floors and down floors, without so much as a word of complaint.
That was day one. Day two was the returning of the dress. I took a quick look to see how the young girl was getting on in the new job.
She was smiling away, settled in, and I am sure there will be no fear of her.