Dear Jack & Clare,
Sitting in the back of the cab from the airport, listening to the driver's umpteenth "knoworrimeyan", I surprised my self and began to feel good. I began to feel a sense of achievement. I had come home. So often when I returned from lunch to my office in Kilburn I would be saddened by the sight of big, strong men, men that belonged at home in Ireland, sitting, sipping their lives away in dark and dirty pubs.
I consoled myself with thoughts that they were an older, different generation to mine, less educated and less prepared to benefit from the opportunities to be had in the more prosperous countries we had all been forced to emigrate to. However, even my generation of graduates, the "Puppies" or Paddy Yuppies of London would complain about the "quality of life" in London and how much better it would be if one could "get back". I have to laugh, sure we wouldn't know what "quality of life" actually meant if it jumped up and bit us in the face! Mind you, this slip, this chink in the armor we had all adopted on arrival in London, would immediaely be covered over with coments on the "terrible unemployment that forced us to leave", "the fact that the Irish Welfare State is non-existent" and "the cruelly high levels of taxation. Sure yer disposable income would be slashed by two thirds and you left with the small bit!"
I had done it though. I had returned. Now all that remained was to find a home for you and your Mum and to get you both over here as quickly as possible.
I was surprised at the amount of building that was going on. Ambitious projects with elegant facades in long-dormant, run down parts of the city. Even the quality of the houses in the numerous new developments that I viewed was high, much higher than I remembered in the late seventies and early eighties prior to my leaving.
There was a lot of bikes on the roads still, but maybe that was just the fine summer weather. When I drove along the coast roads, out around Malahide or along Sandymount Strand, I noticed lots of people out walking. Some strolling along as though on a casual promenade around a small Mediterranean town and some getting in some seriously brisk exercise.
There seemed to be more restaurants too. More reasonably priced, offering better quality food, better service and a wider variety of cuisines.
I know that this is starting to read like a bit of a Bord Failte Handout, Jack, and maybe your old Dad is looking at his native land through rose coloured glasses but it's how I see it all right now. Maybe it'll change as time goes on. We'll see.
All the best,
Dad
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