Newbridge street bike and pole, all alone and lonely, still

A bicycle has stood abandoned for months, chained to a post outside one of Newbridge's most popular pubs. Tommy Callaghan muses on the changes it's seen...

Three months on, Still in situ,

Arm in arm. Street pole

Attached.

No movement.

No separating.

Locked in harmony,

Could be a match.

But ...

Time moves on.

Long days arrive,

Almost.

Smell of freshly cut grass,

Everywhere.

Paint brushes,

Spotted.

Daffodils,

Standing tall.

Cheltenham,

Done and dusted.

Aintree,

Fairyhouse,

Around the corner.

The big one,

Punchestown,

Coming into sight.

Six Nations,

Done,

And dusted.

Chariot,

In charge.

Boys in Green,

Going well.

Lilies,

Flying,

On the up,

And up,

Back,

In big time.

Dubs,

Unbeaten,

Still.

Brits,

On the way

Out.

But only from Euroland,

More’s the pity.

Theresa,

Pulls trigger.

Eurocrats,

Frothing.

Enda,

Still boss,

Forever,

And ever.

Man of war

And peace,

Leaves

The scene.

Shinners,

In mourning.

North

Leaderless,

Officially.

Tragedies

Aplenty.

Search

And Rescue,

Hearbreaking.

Gardai,

In headlines.

Noirín,

In charge.

Still.

Buses,

Scarce.

Except

Green

And Red.

Everything,

Changing.

Everything,

On the move.

But our friend,

The bike.

Static.

Lonely.

Abandoned.

Just over the Liffey.

After the lit-up bridge.

Between Riverbank.

And Harrigans.

Newbridge.

One bike.

One pole.

Together.

Forever.

Maybe.

Strange.

Sad.

Weird.

World.

PART ONE: The pole and the lonely bike ... united on the Main Street of Newbridge