I spent my summer gallivanting around Europe, visiting Ibiza and Lake Como with friends, then Portugal with family. But it was touching down in Ireland for the first time in 17 years that felt like one of the most momentous weekends of the year. As our plane broke through the clouds to reveal the Emerald Isle, I was reminded of my heritage but excited to see Dublin again, this time as a tourist.
We were visiting for two days and we checked into a beautifully restored home in the old city – the perfect base for a weekend exploring. It’s a single-story red-brick house on a quiet street where the neighbours greet each other as they pass. The property is a masterful mix of old and new; the Art Deco front door opens to reveal cosy furnishings and a colourful interior.
There are three bedrooms, all decorated to ooze their own specific charisma, from the pink master with its enormous bed to the small room at the back of the house with its ode to Schitt’s Creek’s Moira Rose that hangs above the headboard.
On our first night, owner Maeve arranged for a local private chef to prepare dinner for our group and we chatted over burrata and tomato salad, seabass and sticky toffee pudding before sprawling, satisfied on the large velvet sofa in the lounge. Needless to say, it was tempting to stay in and enjoy our home for the night, but the draw of the city had us up and out on the search for live music and an old-school Irish dance hall.
In the morning, we cooked a traditional Irish breakfast in the pink-tiled kitchen which is fully kitted out and perfectly suited for mornings indoors. Then it was time to reacquaint ourselves with the city we’d once called home. We booked a taste tour at the Guinness store house, sought out a Spice Bag for lunch and stocked up on meat from the local butcher to cook on our Airbnb’s barbecue for tea.
