A connection with the birthplace of the Irish author Elizabeth Bowen.

I started this on June 7th - six days ago, so it is a belated post.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    I woke up this morning and found my spirit sinking like the water from the torrential down-pour
into the drain outside.

                                                 

After discovering I had nothing to eat, I braved the elements and bought myself some bagels, some hummus and soy milk. That made me feel a little better. Then I decided to look and see what might have happened on this day any time in the past. It usually brings up something interesting, and I like to try and make some kind of personal connection with whichever new birth, death or event catches my eye.

                                                                     My eye...

I got lucky today, as now I can make a connection with an address I used to live in. It was the first apartment, where I was totally independent. That is paying my own rent through working as a waitress, and my own personal living space. I was nineteen and almost fresh out of school. The rent was fifteen pounds a week, and I was earning about thirty five plus tips, so I wasn't exactly starving. I had dropped out of college, and was to my young mind 'living the good life'.

As it turns out, today is the birthday of the Irish author Elizabeth Bowen. 1899-1973. She was born on the 7th June 1899 in the very house I was renting my apartment. It is a Georgian terrace along the banks of the canal between Merrion Street and Mount Street.

                                                    and looks something like this one.

While I was there, the canal below was a meeting place for 'women of the night'. They referred to my girl friends and I as 'virgins' whenever our paths crossed, which wasn't too often, and was a little embarassing. One time someone organised a birthday party for a friend and I was taking photos with a flash camera, my old Kodak. A woman knocked on the door and demanded the film. Apparently they thought I was taking photos of them in action with their high profile clients. Who knew? I certainly didn't sit around spying on them. In fact I never even thought to look out the window at night. After convincing her that nobody was interested in blackmailing anyone, I still had to hand over the film for the sake of goodwill, there was probably a little bit of fear involved there as well.

 All this took place in the very house Elizabeth Bowen was born.

Here she is with students in 1956.

A few years later I was given a book of hers called Bowen's Court, a non-fiction account of what it was to be Anglo Irish in the late eighteenth century. I was also given her 'Irish Stories' for my birthday in '96. They are a good read if you are interested in the topic.