A memory in shades of ivy and stone
It was in Dublin, a city of ash-grey stones and red bricks, that young Arthur settled at the end of the 19th century to study botany at the prestigious Trinity College. There, amidst the colonnaded galleries, between the stern domes and sash windows, his gaze wandered through the gilded stained-glass, lingering on the ornate grilles and granite cornices eroded by Atlantic rains.
But beyond the academy, it was in the city’s vibrant arteries, between the stone bridges spanning the Liffey and the cobbled alleys of Temple Bar, that he discovered the Irish soul, its taste for poetry, hospitality, and long conversations by a fire.
The Long Hall, the soul of a pub
Every evening, Arthur met his comrades at The Long Hall, an iconic pub located just a stone's throw from Trinity College. Under the high stuccoed ceilings and crystal chandeliers, amidst tarnished mirrors and wood paneling varnished by time, he settled onto a red leather bench, savoring a glass of Irish whiskey as the sound of a fiddle gently rose from the back room. It was a place of hushed laughter, where conversations were held in low voices as in a library, and where the malt fumes seemed to dance above the glasses.
A tea, like a distilled memory
Balade Irlandaise evokes an entire atmosphere: that of dark wood, time-worn leather, the cozy warmth of a peat fire in the shadow of an old pub. Each infusion is a vibrant tribute to Arthur Betjeman's youth in Dublin, to the birth of a passion, to the awakening of a destiny guided by tea.
