At the age of 252, the Guinness brewery has plenty of history wreathing around its towers and warehouses, but the ghosts here are merrier ones than their cousins in the Garden of Remembrance or the War Memorial Gardens.
So there was only one question on the lips of the invited guests as they waited for the royal visitors to arrive. Would the Queen sip from the perfect pint of plain, poured patiently by a master brewer in its natural home? Or would she pass up on the chance to sink the black, to the chagrin of Guinness bosses and tourism chiefs alike?
In the end, it was a no-brainer. Master brewer Fergal Murray placed the beginnings of his heady brew on the counter, intoning solemnly on the importance of the choice of glass, the angle at which the drink is poured, the need to allow for settling when three-quarters full. Her Majesty gripped her handbag tightly with both hands, concentrating on what seemed like a foreign language. Beside her, Prince Philip started chuckling at the science being explained to him.
“There seems to be a lot of drama in [making] a drink,” he said. “Is it made with Liffey water?”
Mr Murray assured him the water came “pristine from the hills” as he completed his task, topping off the pint with a creamy dome. He then pushed the black elixir across the counter, in the direction of the Queen. Instinctively, it seemed, she stepped back a pace. Equally instinctively, Prince Philip moved forward, the smile broadening on his face.
Would she? Probably not. But would he? The moment passed. The pint settled.
A packed itinerary made its needs felt and television presenter Ryan Tubridy swooped to bring the royal couple on a tour of Dublin’s sights from the windows of the Gravity bar, with its panoramic 360-degree views of the city.
The Queen, wearing a turquoise-and-white day dress and coat and matching turquoise hat, gazed silently down on Dublin’s crane-depleted skyline as Tubridy wittered nervously about the sights to behold. Prince Philip asked where Croke Park was, and as an avid rugby fan, gazed with interest at the outline of the Aviva Stadium across the city. Looking west, Tubridy pointed out the Phoenix Park and the protruding bulk of the Wellington Monument, named after a Dubliner who became a duke and went on to command the British army.
“We can share him,” the presenter quipped, prompting a nod from the duke before him.
Guinness archivist Eibhlin Roche then showed the couple the original lease for the St James’s Gate brewery, signed by Arthur Guinness in 1759 for a period of 9,999 years. “What sort of mug would sign a lease for 9,999 years?” Prince Philip wanted to know.
Still the pint settled. British foreign secretary William Hague veered briefly in its direction, but declined with a smile an offer to consume it.
More than 60 guests had been invited to meet the Queen in what was one of the more intimate events on her tour programme. Lord Mayor Gerry Breen, accompanied by his wife Maeve, was on hand to greet her as she emerged from the seventh-floor lift. Ministers Joan Burton, Leo Varadkar and Jan O’Sullivan, and Dublin city manager John Tierney, were also in the welcoming party. The guests had been grouped into semi-circular “pods” representing tourism, Diageo staff, recipients of awards from the Arthur Guinness Fund and “Dubliners”.
The Queen took the time to shake hands with everyone present. She asked Geraldine Richardson, chairwoman of the South Inner City Community Development Association, about its programmes offering help to early school-leavers. She then spent some minutes in discussion with Lord Iveagh, Edward Guinness. He is the son of Benjamin, the last of the Guinness family to be actively involved in the business, and grew up in Farmleigh, where the royal couple are staying.
At 10.55am, five minutes ahead of the busy schedule and only 25 minutes since they had arrived, the couple departed to a burst of applause.
The pint meant for the Queen still rested on the bar counter.
Many were those who spurned the offer to drink it until, finally, local parish priest Fr Michael Mernagh took it out of its misery with a hearty sip.
Fair play to you, Father. Leave it to a priest to make sure a pint isn't wasted.
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2 comments:
Saddest. story. EVER.
I just want to give that pint a hug. Or, you know, drink it.
I love the look on Mr. Queen's face. Pure lust. You know if he didn't have to be all royal and whatnot he would have downed 4 or 5.
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