It’s October, so the shops here have started on their annual schizophrenic assault on the senses of the children of Ireland. Time was when Christmas began after Halloween was over, but now some of the bigger stores, and particularly the chain DIYs and the like, have simply divided their aisles in two, with ghouls and pumpkins on one side and red-faced Santas on the other.

Will has described Ranelagh in his Dublin Neighbourhood Watch. I was going to post this as a reply there, but it seems to deserve some space of its own.

What's interesting, but not widely known, is how Ranelagh got its name.

I mentioned an Irish architecture forum in an earlier post. The site in question is Archiseek.com, and for those of you who like to get their hands dirty with the history of a city or who have more than a passing interest in architecture and town planning it’s a must-read.

You meet a leprechaun. One of the statutory requirements of the situation is of course that he grant you three wishes before you let him go. Being an Irish leprechaun (are there any other sort) there is a condition that you take up permanent residence in the country in order to avail of the tax relief on your winnings.

She is not an Irish town
And she is not English,
Historic with guns and vermin
And the cold renown
Of a fragment of Church latin,
Of an oratorical phrase.
- Louis MacNiece

Many of you will not have heard of Evert van Benthem. It’s likely that most of his neighbours in Canada, where he now lives, are unaware of the unique record he holds – one that is unlikely ever to be matched, let alone beaten, for he is the only man ever to have achieved twice a feat most Dutch men and women would give their best skates for.

Among all the celebrations going on from Southport to Dublin and on to Oakland Hills in the last month was once again a tinge of sadness that Padraig Harrington’s father had not lived to see any of his son’s three major triumphs. Paddy Harrington died far too young in 2005 and the three times champion has made no secret of the huge influence his father had on his career, his character and beliefs.

I have to admit – put it down to a genetic/cultural disposition – but I do like a pint. And in almost half a century on this planet of ours I have spent about 30 years searching for the perfect place to have one.

So if you’re like me, here’s a tip, discovered while strolling the afore-mentioned Campshires in researching this blog.

I’ve been to the Botanic Gardens.

And if that sounds like the opening line from Edward Albee’s "The Zoo Story" (“I’ve been to the zoo. I said, I’ve been to the zoo. MISTER! I’VE BEEN TO THE ZOO!”), then it’s because what followed was every bit as moving and scrotum-grabbingly arresting as the tale told by Albee’s Christ-protagonist, Jerry.

I discovered a new word the other day. There’s a lot of talk on an architectural forum here of something called “The Campshires”. Now I know my Dublin well, but I didn’t know of any area of that name; perhaps it was a new one created out of the ongoing clearance and development of the Docklands, or perhaps it was just the name of some large-scale building project in progress.