I was in my local pub in Dublin on Sunday evening, trying to watch the rugby, when a kerfuffle developed outside. “They’re at it again,” said a man in the doorway, who was joined by curious others. But I knew what it was, even without looking.
A nearby apartment complex has been undergoing landscape works lately involving, among other things, a large number of decorative tractor tyres. The idea was to fill the tyres with soil and use them as flower beds. And it would have been a good idea during the 11 other months of the year. This being October, however, I fear it wasn’t thought through.
Word of the tyre-based landscaping quickly reached the ears of street urchins from a neighbouring suburb who had a plan of their own – for a giant Halloween bonfire up at the back of St James’s Hospital somewhere. So even though the tyres were behind security fencing, there followed nightly attempts to liberate them, some successful.
This looked like one of the successes. And as two tyres were wheeled past the pub, the men in the doorway looked on, more or less amused. “Where’s the guards?” asked somebody. “Out fitting water meters,” quipped another.
But in general, the onlookers were indulgent. “We did worse ourselves,” said one. “We did of course,” said another. And with that, they were off on down Memory Lane, while the tyres headed up Bow Lane, in the opposite direction.
There’s a certain phrase that, in my opinion, is vastly overused these days in the context of corporate plans. Even so, in this case, it would have been fully justified, both for the landscapers and the pyromaniacs.
In fact, if the bonfire planners were in the habit of issuing press releases, they would surely have predicted the “roll-out” of all the remaining tractor tyres by October 31st. But a bit like Irish water, which had a similar deadline, they ran into logistical difficulties.
Their getaway route involved a steep hill, for example. Steep enough that the pedestrian route up to it – an alley called Cromwell’s Quarters – comprises 40 steps. This is a serious climb, even if you’re not pushing tractor tyres. And a further concern for larcenists is that there’s only one way in or out, should the law arrive at either end.
This may be what happened on Sunday. In any case, no sooner had the pub locals returned to their pints than there was another kerfuffle. “They’re after coming back down!” announced the man in the door.
He meant the tractor tyres, which had returned alone, in a hurry, careering down the steps and across the road into a wall. The urchins, meanwhile, had scarpered. That was the end of the street entertainment for one evening. In the meantime, the season of ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night had been officially opened.
I would never suggest that the youngsters in question are from the wrong side of the tracks. As it happens, though, there are tracks in the neighbourhood – the Luas red line – and the kids are from the other side of them.
They don’t come down our way much, except on missions like this. But of course, as the ancient Celts knew, this is a time of year when all boundaries – even those between the physical and spiritual worlds – are more permeable than usual.
That must be why, as a small boy myself, I often felt a terrible compunction in late October to remove my neighbours’ gates. I didn’t realise it then, but I know now that I had been possessed by mischievous spirits, who were hijacking people like me to ensure ease of passage on their rounds.
The would-be tyre takers may be acting on a similar compulsion. Or perhaps they themselves are sprites. That would certainly explain the speed with which they can vanish when a squad car appears.
The urge to burn things at Samhain is also an ancient one. Halloween bonfires mimic those lit by the druids to encourage the waning sun to return in spring. So, whether they know it or not, those kids stealing tyres are the inheritors of an ancient pagan ritual marking a turn in the wheel of the year.
I don’t know how many tractor tyres they got away with in the end. In any case, somebody somewhere has decided they’re not getting any more. By yesterday, all the tyres had been removed from the landscaping project. I think that, to coin a phrase, the plan has been rolled in.
@FrankmcnallyIT