The Palace Bar

You’ve got to grab opportunities when they come your way, right? So when I found myself in Temple Bar recently, (God help me, I still don’t quite know why), faced with the equally unpleasant options of the Dubliner or some other tourist pub serving champ with piped diddly ay music, I was delighted with the suggestion that we wander further down and grab a pint in the Palace Bar. 

It was on the hit list as it’s one of the 15 pubs featured in ‘The Irish Pub’, and whilst there was a time I drank here fairly regularly, that was pre -twins, so it’s quite some years ago now since I frequented the narrow pub with its glowing external lantern, the narrow winding stairs down to the smelly loo, and the smoky, golden mirrors behind the bar. It’s all so familiar, unchanged; even the bar man appears unsullied by time: he’s still a fine thing!   

There is no chatting to the bar man though; no checking out for long forgotten memories; no time for talking to the men at the bar (because it is all men, as is the crowd outside on this warm and balmy evening). We are on a mission tonight, and the objective is to get hammered. Some of us are pretty close to achieving our goal, as various people totter and sway, but I like to think I wasn’t one of them!

The lack of seating outside and the fact that some of our entourage have hi-jacked seats in a nearby beer garden means w aren’t staying long, so the pints are swiftly downed, and we move on – after the requisite selfie of course that’s another one off the list!