Saturday 25th June 2016, by the powers of luck and chance, was my first Pride Day. Planning to take a trip to town that afternoon, Gavin and I stepped outside and headed the usual route (left, right, straight ahead on Townsend Street) when we came face-to-back with a garda, his arms folded, legs spread in power stance.
From the street just beyond, a loud medley of colour and sound issued: music blasting from open-top buses, flags waving on all sides, balloons bobbing up into the blanket of grey sky. To our left, The Windjammer’s royal purple walls were set off nicely by rainbow flags on masts, where locals draped in colour held pints and chatted, occasionally looking up at the smiling faces gliding by. To our right, an Indian family stood on the footpath, their little toddler in his mother’s arms. He waved at the leather-clad, moustachioed marchers flanking a vintage motor car and they waved back.
It was a day for everybody and the atmosphere was infectious: gay and straight, young and old, human and canine were out and proud. We got carried along with the crowd to Merrion Square, and along the way tried to capture the visible joy and pride of a nation that voted yes to gay marriage last year. We lived and let live, and on Pride Day we celebrated that together.
I’ve been meaning to share our photos for over a month now, so here they are. If you were there, I hope it helps you relive the day for a moment. If not, enjoy these instead. And don’t worry, there’s always next year!