A letter to… my parents

As one student begins to live it up again in the Pale, she writes to her parents back out in the sticks to reassure them that whilst Dublin living is great, there really is no place like home

Illustration by Sarah Larragy

Dear parents,

I sit writing this as I sip my skinny cappuccino in this new very hipster hidden gem I found on a corner of southside Dublin that you’ll never be able to find. It’s a college thing Mum; casual coffees and lounging lectures.

As another year of University begins in the big city, I thought it only fair to prepare you for what is to come. The vast extent of quality time we spent with each other over the summer has tragically come to an end for the moment; I have been left to mourn those family outings and early nights spent together on the sofa.

I have such a full on, back to back timetable as a law student; those 11 hours a week are exhausting you know. It is such a tight squeeze to fit in the visit to our dear KC Peaches, the quick pop into Zara to hunt for the latest autumn winter must-have knit and the obligatory chats that always seem to occur over a pint in the Pav. Honestly, college has me run off my feet. I get tired even thinking about it. Another coffee please, soya flat white this time.

Dublin is such a beautiful city and I’m so fortunate to have the opportunity to study in the heart of it. Surrounded by many renowned architectural constructions, historical and heroic streets, the air is filled with culture and is breathtaking. Where is my favourite place to go in the city? It is so hard to pick just one. Alas, the humble Harcourt Street and his neighbour, Camden Street tie for the win. The atmosphere is nothing short of incredible. Excitable culchies in their county colours and skinny jeans out in herds every night of the week. No cheaplist left behind. Not to mention the ever faithful Everleigh fans who are too concerned with the drama of that one guy showing up and that bitch who had the audacity to say hi to him. How dare she?!

T-lager cans poison the streets, the unfortunate victims  found a few paces on, sprawled out in an abstract display of misery and regret, black mascara running as dark as the night. The smell of underage drinking and sweat is irresistibly pungent. Don’t worry though folks, I swear that wasn’t me Freshers’ week last year. It certainly was a week I will never forget. Shame I can’t say the same for Trinity Ball…

The huns and the lads are what make this city great. The capital of this emerald isle offers the promise of overpriced meal deals, stale weather and ‘Gold Digger’ in every overcrowded rowdy club. Who better to enforce this invaluable promise of prosperity than the pretentious, alternative and stylish kids of Trinity College Dublin.

So Mum and Dad, as you can tell, I’m doing great. College life is treating me well and is everything I hoped it would be. Gotta go now, pre drinks start in an hour and I haven’t started my eyeliner. God I need a slimline G&T pronto.

Anyway, see you soon to discuss a raise in my allowance.

All my love

Your daughter