An A to Z of love letters to a bewitching, thrilling, imperfect town

As a counterpoint, we offer 26 reasons to submit to Dublin's gravitational pull, an A to Z of love letters to a bewitching, thrilling, imperfect town.

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A is for Arthur, the melodic hiss of his dark, creamy stout transferring from tap to pint glass in the Dublin taverns that sit cheek by jowl with St James's Gate is the city's soundtrack, its unofficial anthem, the music of joyous anticipation.

B is for Burdock's, 112 years old and still delivering Liberties caviar, a no-frills cod and chips combo that has seduced everyone from Bruce Springsteen to Billy Connolly, a Werburgh Street oasis where even Mick Jagger finally found satisfaction.

C is for cathedrals, portals to medieval times, treasure houses of architecture and art, the twin towers of Christ Church and St Patrick's are so geographically close that an athletic bishop could fling his crozier, javelin like, from one to the other.

D is for drinking dens. A shimmering necklace of pubs that sit around the nape of the city centre - Keoghs, The Palace, Mulligan's, Neary's, Grogan's The Long Hall, Briody's, Toner's, Bowe's, The Boar's Head, The Bank, The Dame Tavern, The Swan, The International, The Duke, Chaplin's, The Pipers' Corner, The Oval, The Stag’s Head, Doheny’s - elevate Dublin to the very summit of world cities in which to properly savour a pint.

E is for Eamon Dunphy, pantomime curmudgeon of the Charlton era, firebrand columnist of this house, erudite polemicist, once a man-about-town and now, unthinkably 80-years-old. And, with the advancing decades, something of an urban treasure.

F is for Farrell. Colin’s journey from young matinee-idol struggling with addiction to a figure of authentic emotional depth, a phenomenal actor who is also reservoir of introspection and an unshakeably sound individual is a compelling, uplifting tale.