Dublin 8. It’s a kip, isn’t it? All soot-stained ceilings and pokey bedrooms? Hardly any light? And no off-street parking? Rubbish, says Quentin Fottrell. Dublin 8 deserves a better reputation. It’s nothing less than the charming new capital of Gay Ireland.
It happened only days after I’d moved to Dublin 8. A dirty, torn page from a magazine danced its way down Cork Street, past some abandoned Corporation flats, an old dear standing patiently at a bus stop, a woman in a burqa, and a gang of meddling kids tormenting the Polish bouncer at the corner store. As soon as it came closer, I recognised the page blowing in the wind. Gay Community News. I decided that this was a sign: “Welcome to the Gaybourhood!” Who knew? The leafy backstreets of Dublin 8 have become our very own Greenwich Village….
Earlier: The Only Straight In The Village