You know that dignity I was talking about? All gone now.

Dublin is one of those cities that when you are visiting you think it's beautiful but when you are living here all you can see is the grey, cold concrete and the unfriendly people. It’s a rare day, like this morning, when you start to think, hey, this place isn’t so bad. I could stay here forever maybe. The sun is shining, and the layout of the city is quite lovely.

For those of you that don’t know what Dublin is like think of a big circle, then slash a slightly wobbly line through the length of it and that’s Dublin city. We have the River Liffey running through the centre of the city and on mornings like this morning it gleams.

We live right next to the river, a bit out of the city centre so in the mornings on my way to the Luas I can stop on the bridge and look down into the city and just smile. I did that this morning and then a whole Luas full of people, as well as some kindly eastern Europeans handing out the free-sheets saw my underwear.

Oh yes. One thing you don’t think about when you’re standing on that bridge is how windy it is. So while I was gazing at the sparkle off of the water, I was also giving about 70 people an eyeful. My pretty blue skirt just kept going up and up and the more I tried to walked off the damned bridge the worse it was. I knew I couldn’t move anymore without losing whatever dignity I had left. In fairness, it’s very little after the Harry Potter mania of last week, but I like to keep a hold on to the bit I do have by NOT FLASHING EVERY LAST PERSON AT HEUSTON STATION.

I got to a point where the Eastern Europeans were looking at me with amusement (but not helping – oh no, not helping at all. JUST LAUGHING.) where I said to myself, hey Liz, you have to run out of this 30 metre wind tunnel before they arrest for indecent exposure and the Eastern Europeans for hysterical behavior.

So I took off and my skirt again went up and this time it went up and up over and over again flapping in the wind, smacking me in the face and I thought that it just might go over my head and into the stupid river. I’d be left skirt-less and humiliated and to add insult to injury I wouldn’t be able to get back into my apartment because I FORGOT MY KEYS THIS MORNING.

So, good thing I only tripped over my feet on the way over the bridge, right? RIGHT?

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Liz in Dublin