It’s the end of a quiet Monday evening, and I’m waiting for my companion to join me for our postprandial pints. There are few better places to sit than with your back to the fire in the left-hand bar of Harry Byrne’s, with its raised grate at waist height to spin heat into this stately room, chasing out any chills you might have brought in with you. As the stern barman serves me, I’m awestruck by the bar’s interior. Harry Byrne’s has to be one of the most tastefully decorated bars in Dublin. There’s a serious lack of tack on the walls, where space is taken up by records and photos of local sports teams going back decades. With apparently only the light fittings being replaced in the century since its construction (OK, probably the flat-screen TVs, too) the pub has the original brickwork, wooden floors and amazing carved ceilings, a neighbourhood bar of the highest order.
This gem of Victorian architecture even makes barrel tables feel appropriately old-style instead of naff, and I sit down at one to read. Harry Byrne’s is separated into three bars, and I’ve landed in the one dominated by middle-aged men ignoring the ice hockey playing on screens above us, and more interested in debating Tim’s marital problems and whether Ford or Mercedes vans give better performance for the price. I’m joined by accomplice for Smithwick’s and two packets of Bacon Fries – what better accompaniment?
Peeking outside to the smoking area that the L-shaped building encloses, we encounter a decidedly younger, mixed-gender crowd discussing, presumably, something other than married life and vans. The smoking garden is one of this bar’s best features, covered by a suspended roof, heated in the cold and displaying beautiful masonry in what was once the coach yard. It’s plain to see that this is one spot that will flourish in the summer months. Left with thoughts of those hopefully warmer evenings, we drain our glasses and head outside to be greeted by glowing yellow lights of the line of taxis outside waiting to take Clontarf’s denizens safely home.
Harry Byrne’s
Howth Road, Clontarf, Dublin 3
Words: John Hyland // Photography: Evan Buggle
