An ode to the bird that is black

To many, Dublin is synonymous with pub culture and hospitality and my experience here has been no different. In particular, one place has captured my heart like no other. Those of you who have spent time with me over the last year could probably guess where I’m talking about and I take no shame in my very apparent public love for the place.

This is an ode to the Bird that is Black.

Affectionately referred to as the bird, b bird, our local and our living room. Blackbird is a weekly if not bi-weekly or tri-weekly staple in my life in Dublin. A renovated old mans pub that once was the Rathmines Inn, we
stumbled across this gem shortly after settling ourselves into our apartment and with our first of many pints here, we ingratiated ourselves into life in D6.

Greeted with a well chorused “Hi girls” or much to our disdain “Hey Sheilas”, the lads in the Bird always make an effort to make the friendship we forced on them seem less ‘forced’. From its tunes, tap beers, shitty pizzas, beard-cladded barmen, obsessive nature towards candles, lamps and coasters, and protective bouncers – there’s nothing about Blackbird that I don’t love.

I’ve embarrassed myself more here than in any other single establishment worldwide. From asking out bar staff (and being politely but awkwardly rejected), to falling down the stairs in front of crowds of people, B Bird has seen it all. We’ve supplied the lads with birthday cakes and hugs and kisses, we’ve requested tracks, posed as staff members, reorganized the furniture, lent a helping hand when it’s busy and frequently over stayed our welcome.

I’ve taken dates here, made new friends here, introduced both my dads to the boys here, celebrated every milestone for the past 10 months here and more. If I’m honest, some months I’ve spent more money in here than on rent. And certainly more time than I than I’d like to admit. Needless to say we’ve taken the concept of the ‘local’ to the extreme in Dublin but I wouldn’t change it. There’s nothing like having a place that feels like a second home when you’re away from your own.

To Blackbird, a black hole where my dignity and dollar happily go to die. You have forged your way into our hearts, even if you didn’t mean to..

An ode to the bird that is black

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