As I passed through the housing estates of Tallaght early yesterday morning, I couldn't help but feel as though I was moving through a pretty little Swiss Village. Bare trees and white-as far as the eye could see, with the mountains in the background looking ripe for a ski. As I disembarked the bus and trod along the canal I suddenly felt enchanted by the city. The traffic cones and shopping trolleys were invisible underneath the top layer of ice, and even the swans (who usually look sinister) seemed nicer and more serene. I floated along home not caring that I was wet to the knee and had lost feeling in my right hand. So focused was I on the beauty of it all that I missed the enormous pile of snow covered dog shit sitting right smack bang in the middle of the footpath.
Definitely not Switzerland.
4 comments:
Ha!
Pristine turdage though, pristine and alpine.
Alpine fresh indeed.
I was about to comment saying how lovely an image this conjured up, until I read the last line. Still it's quite the scene.
Johnson, the nalar is always a scene.
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