It was a bright sunny Friday; better than hoped but not as bad as expected.
As the residents of Rosepark, waited with bated breath for the second of two buses to arrive the historic nature of the building came sharply to mind. A trip to the Presidents house, indeed, that is what was in store.
Under the cool, air-conditioned, splendour of their 18 degrees centigrade presidential-sanctioned throne, the crowd, across flower suburbia, through rugged inner-city streets, and plunging deep into the park, arrived at the Áras with a but few minutes to spare. In good time too; Met Éireann had predicted rain.
The Áras is a mighty building, older than the republic it now serves. Though not as impressive as the Élysée Palace it is archetypally Irish; measured to size.
The Áras’ main hallway.
Lunch, tea, and smoked salmon
The Residents were brought into the white walled palace, treated with levels of courtesy afford to the likes of Her Majesty the Queen, with tea, coffee and cakes and refills galore. From there, down a corridor trodden by powerful men and women, they were brought to the dungeon to explore the Áras’ past. There were many gifts and presents here, given to Presidents gone before. Alas, they were not for sale so pictures had to suffice.
Presents that have been gifted to the President over his years in office.
After a quick whirlwind tour of the Presidents study, and a hasty gander around the garden the excitable occasion came to an end with some furry friends coming to say adieu.
Nuala Feric (Resident) and the President’s Bernese Mountain Dog.
On mature recollection, it was a day to be remembered. As the portrait of the great statesman Eamon de Valera stared down to all that past, the residents of Rosepark recalled with great fondness the times gone past; except the youngest of the staff who, sadly, wasn’t old enough to vote when the incumbent came to fame.
Dan and May overshadowed by the elder statesman.