The sight, smell and sounds of Dublin City pubs stimulating my senses as I cycled past Ryan’s on Parkgate Street down to Doyle’s on College Street and beyond.

The retracted windows of The Arlington on Bachelor’s Walk were calling my name, asking me to come inside where they could wrap me snug and tight around a table full of pints.

The summer breezed above The Liffey as the waters turned brown like Guinness, while the smell of hops burrowed up my nose.

Short skirts and summer frocks like heavenly cloth brightened the presence of so many beautiful girls; the women glowing brighter than the sunshine itself.

It was like everything was designed to pull me towards the outdoor seating area of a distinguished – or not so distinguished – drinking parlour.

The day in it was built for sunshine wrapping her arms around my quenched repose and ice-cold Bulmers trickling down my belly. This was to be enjoyed with the deep musings of a thoughtful mind, social interactions with decent folk, rib-tickling laughter, and who knows maybe also the riveting joys of meeting a woman too, should I have been lucky.

Alas, I must have you know that steering clear of the sauce today was a difficult task indeed. Cycling home through the Phoenix Park and away from the boozy temptations of Dublin City on a hot sunny Saturday was a lamentable experience.

It was today 11th July, 2026 in Dublin. It was hot. It was sunny. Mayo beat Louth in the GAA. England play Norway in the World Cup Quarter-Final.

I am home now. Home in my hometown; and this is what it’s like to be home on a sunny Saturday afternoon in the summertime in Dublin City Centre.