The Orange of Ireland

When I was in Bodrum I bought a very bright orange cotton shawl. While I didn't need it in Greece or Rome, the moment I reached Ireland it became a godsend: after the sun of the Mediterranean the weather in Ireland felt colder than ever and I needed the shawl to keep the icey draughts away from the neck of my coat. Back in Dublin after a tour of the island, I continued to wear it: I liked the colour and against the dull grey sky and cold summer air, it provided a bright spot in each day.

I intended on my last morning in Dublin to visit the Castle and spend the morning meandering through its rooms. So after buying my requisite Ireland charm, I headed in that direction. Unfortunately, as seemed to be my luck with the Dublin Castle, it was closed for the day for a private function. As I approached and bounded into the foyer for more information, a cameraman at the door switched on his camera and very obviously started recording. Thinking about it, I wondered if the function was political: there hadn't been people arriving in cocktail dresses. Was his reaction simply because I was wearing orange? Because I was wearing orange and walking with a purposeful stride, and there had been recent troubles in Belfast? I don't know...

I like to think I looked unique enough to warrant notice.