St Patrick’s Day, Calcutta (Kolkata), 1997

Note, 17th March 2020

I originally posted this 4 years ago, but given the lack of St Patrick’s Day parades around the world, I was reminded of this day 23 years ago. I thought of the feeling of sitting in the Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta (now Kolkata) with a badge on my shirt wondering what the hell I was doing on my own halfway across the world on such a day, and no-one to celebrate it with.

And I thought I’d share it with you – again, for those who read it 4 years ago, or for the first time, for those of you who didn’t.

Between 1996 and 1998 – when the city now called Kolkata was still called Calcutta – I spent some time travelling around the world. The piece below is taken from my journal, with a few slight edits for clarity.

Note: This was my 2nd time in Calcutta/Kolkata on this trip; this stay was only two nights because I was flying to Bangkok on Weds 19th, after 4 months in India and 2 months in Nepal. This isn’t a reflection of how I spent those months, honest – just a snapshot of these 2 days…

Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta, 6pm Monday 17th March 1997

Paddy’s Day in Calcutta, all the same.

St Patrick’s Day, Calcutta (Kolkata), 1997

Between 1996 and 1998 – when the city now called Kolkata was still called Calcutta – I spent some time travelling around the world. The piece below is taken from my journal, with a few slight edits for clarity.

Note: This was my 2nd time in Calcutta/Kolkata on this trip; this stay was only two nights because I was flying to Bangkok on Weds 19th, after 4 months in India and 2 months in Nepal. This isn’t a reflection of how I spent those months, honest – just a snapshot of these 2 days…

Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta, 6pm Monday 17th March 1997

Paddy’s Day in Calcutta, all the same.

Jam on the Doorhandle

A few years ago, I was heading to the west of Ireland with some friends. It was raining (as it often is in Ireland) and we stopped off for something to eat in a pub somewhere. We were sitting by the window, and outside there was a small playground. A little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old, came over to the window and, with the heavy sigh of a 50 year-old, shook her head and said “It’s too late now, to go out on the swings.”