Saturday was calm and uneventful. Talked to my neighbour, knowing I would need a lift the next day (her mum is coming from the USA to visit in a few days, I hope to meet her). Listened to the audiobook Moscow-Petushki, a prose by Venedikt Yerofeyev from around 1969-70, very moving. I watched the interview with Rosie O'Donnell who recently immigrated to Ireland. Good luck for her, I believe it's a great place to be.
Sunday, on the other hand, was a day of earthly delights. Anne drove me to town, and I waited for Fred to clock off. Of course, I went to the coffee shop, and waited while reading the next book. There was enough time to finish Włodek Goldkorn's prose on the Shoa and start something else, another one of Keegan's story collections. I was already in my fancy shoes and coat, Fred had to change, but it didn't take him long and from Droichead Átha we could go to Dublin.
Ah, Richard Wagner! It was a very interesting interpretation of The Flying Dutchman, with Giselle Allen as Senta; we rarely listen to Wagner, and still, we were both impressed.
Below, we're going back to the car left on Hanover St East, admiring Dublin architecture at night.
No comments:
Post a Comment