The Thursday Tipple: The Bernard Shaw, South Richmond Street

As I leave the office, a colleague tells me he’s leaving work early to accompany his daughter to the Ed Sheerin concert in the Phoenix Park. In his mid-forties (I think), he sounds amused at the prospect of time-travelling.

At the entrance to The Bernard Shaw, a friendly, bearded bouncer asks me if he can check my bag for cans. Now I’m the one time-travelling. It’s good to still look half-young.

I’d known from a night there about five years ago (in hindsight it’s almost 15) that this pub-café-pizzeria lures a younger clientele. Tonight’s gathering at the bar, some ordering the pizza and pint deal, others the two G&Ts for €15, confirm this. They’re still in college or just beyond.

The wall opposite the bar displays art for sale by contemporary artists Stephen Shaw, Sinéad Smyth and John Kavanagh. The art is modern, accessible, interesting.* Other walls display posters for gigs (some on here) of which I’m no longer “street” enough to guess the genre. Weaved among the art works is a poster for the pub’s recent World Buckfast Day event. The liquid of champions, the pub describes it, promoted earlier in the month with the world’s first Buckfast 99s and Buckfast Bingo. This two-minute wait at the bar brings me through adulthood, studenthood and puberty.

A door at the back, past a narrow section with tables, leads to a vast outdoor area. There, dozens of patrons, Irish and non-Irish, sit at wooden tables under the plastic roof or stand at keg tables in the uncovered area. They’re drinking and talking quickly, enjoying this fresh but unrelentingly sunny May evening. All seem oblivious to the mural of a Shaw quote (the only Shavian trapping I can see) on the gable end of the pub’s building: Music is the brandy of the damned. I’m time travelling again, transported back to college nights and standing outside the students’ bar, drinking carefree but in conformity. It’s noisy. It’s busy. It’s vibrant.

From a vintage, double-decker bus, permanently stationary at the back of the yard, patrons order delicious-looking pizzas and bruschetta. Inside, the smell of fresh food being prepared is wonderful. My order of coffee order causes consternation. They tell me to order it at the bar (also a café by day, with a sumptuous-looking menu). The barman tells me the opposite. The lads in the bus then dutifully oblige. Upstairs, people sit at cramped tables enjoying their meal and the view (you can book tables). In 2015, the blue bus made it into the McKenna’s Guide (a recognised list of best places to eat, shop and stay in Ireland). The space on the other side of the building the pub’s event space for Thursday-Sunday food markets and events like flea markets.

Back outside, chatter glides over a large, steel door. I’m a child again as I open the magic door and find a smaller crowd sitting at small tables formed from crates propped up by mini-kegs. A polemical whiff lances the air. Another colourful mural, this one on the big socio-political matter of the month, spreads across the wall shared with the neighbouring property.

As I enjoy the outdoor vista again I ask myself for what age tourists I review pubs. This might be a good place for young tourists to meet other young tourists. Then I look again at the crowd and notice no ethnic separation. This is modern, young, dynamic Dublin: those from Ireland and many from elsewhere, studying or working for companies that attract many nationalities, enjoying drinks in this post-commercial, non-landscaped space. It’s under my nose and I just haven’t noticed it much.

After leaving, I look back at the distinctive, black, asymmetrically-shaped building with its ice cream cone stand outside. Both neighbouring buildings are long demolished, the gable ends now frayed with concrete and crevices filled with thriving plants. The streetscape as you travel down South Richmond Street now makes sense. The vast, boarded space that looks like a demolition site is a world of outdoor eating, drinking and magic buses. Young Dublin has made a home where old Dublin once lived. It could be Brixton. Or maybe I’m showing my age again.

Prices (17 May 2018)

Pint of Guinness: €5.50

Pint of Becks: €5.80

330ml bottle of Heineken: €5.50

Brewtonic: €6.00


* The pub will host a closing night for their work tomorrow (25 May).

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