I think every Dubliner has been to Dollymount beach at least once in their lives. Mam would pile us all in to her little mini and off we’d head to’ Dollier’ of a summers day. Through the city centre, down the quays and out past Fairview. Along the coast road we’d chug, excited at the sight of Poolbeg lighthouse and the smell of the sea. We’d squeal in excited terror as we trundled across the wooden bridge, always fearful that we wouldn’t make it, afraid to look out until we got to the other side and on to the sand.
Sitting on dollymount Strand
Soggy tomato sandwich in hand.
Looking at the other kids with their paninis
and salad in a tupperware dish
Looking on I could only wish
For a slice of ham or roasted chicken
Not soggy bread that would only sicken
I bite into the sog and grit
Try to smile, try not to spit
I wash it down, not with ballygowan
But water from the tap at home.