life's a beach

Today, I was supposed to go along to the first rugby match in Croke Park which looks on the television like it's quite an occasion as "Croker" was just opened today for the first time to international football and rugby matches while Ireland's regular international stadium, Lansdowne Road, is being redeveloped. The welcoming of "foreign games" into Croker has been a large bone of contention here in Ireland as Croke Park has long been a gaelic games stadium, which parts of the population are very precious about (although I heard on the radio this morning that there have been other games and events held there long before the invention of gaelic games). It's also a site bound with scars of occupation. In 1920, British auxiliary police drove into the ground during a match and began firing indiscriminately around them, killing 13 people. So while the match against France today is a celebrated event, there is a bit of apprehension over the day when England come to play, and when God Save The Queen will be sung in the grounds.

Some people have been staunchly against opening the ground to foreign games. But if the Gaelic Games Association (GAA) had denied them, we would have had to travel to England and further abroad to see Ireland's international squads play, and that would have been worse and would have made the GAA look really petty. So today, the GAA have received high praise, they and the Irish Rugby Football Union (IRFU) are making money hand over fist, and it looks like a bright day for Ireland in general. I actually love days like this in Ireland. It seems everyone in the country is involved. Everyone is watching. Everyone is talking about the same thing today. That's the fun of living in such a tiny country... you can't possibly get FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) because you're right in the middle of the buzz.

But I didn't go and I'm actually quite sad about it. I was worried about leaving Lola locked up for the amount of time it would take to take in the match. I know I've complained about it before and I'll leave the whining for now... but suffice it to say, it would take a significant amount of time to actually get into the ground because there's nowhere to park nearby, the rail line doesn't go there, and then there's getting out when it's over. Trying to get in and out of the match in Dublin from here would in total be about 6 hours all told. 6 hours is OK for Lola if it's at night and everyone is sleeping. About 6 hours is all she can manage still. But to lock her up all day... well I just couldn't do it. I've been working too hard on getting her trained just to go and force her to possibly fail on her main job, which is not going potty in the house. So I've stayed behind, encouraging my man to take his pal. I'm glad they went because they don't spend a lot of time together lately... but I'm sorry I wasn't there. It is an historic day for Irish sport.

But on a happy note, Lola came with me in my car for the first time, which she handled well. She found herself at another house that smelled of her mommy, and with steadily building bravery she walked on a beach where there were dogs to smell, people to watch and birds to chase, and occasional rewards of cheese from me. After a little initial apprehension, she almost walked straight out into the water. I think she likes it better at my flat than she does in her permanent home.