Damon gives Dalkey a strut
It’s an ill wind, as the saying goes, that blows nobody a silver lining. And it remains true in a pandemic. Ask Dalkey. Dalkey’s a no-account seaside village near Dublin. Until now it was best known for The Dalkey Archive, a novel by Flann O’Brien, the funniest Irish writer since Jonathan Swift and one who laughed at human folly because otherwise he’d cry.
But now Dalkey has a new reason to puff out its chest and strut like a rooster. And that reason is – wait for it, now; you’ll be riven with envy – Matt Damon.
Yes, yes, that Matt Damon, the Hollywood actor, star of such unforgettable films as – but why bother to list them? They are etched in your skull and mine. Now, Matt Damon happened to be filming in Dalkey when Covid-19 swept in and trapped him. And not just him. His wife and children were there as well, which means that for the last eight weeks – eight weeks! – lucky little Dalkey has been playing host to Matt Damon and Mrs Damon and two little Damons, each and every one of them with a full complement of limbs and a functioning digestive system. And they say the age of miracles is past.
The media have rejoiced, of course. ‘‘Matt Damon in Dalkey’’ is a headline that writes itself. Like Gott in Himmel, or Hole in One, it’s a verbless blurt of joy.
‘‘Ireland swoons,’’ declared The Guardian,
‘‘over Matt Damon’s lockdown love affair with village.’’ So huge was this news that it even appeared in this paper, published as far away from Dalkey as it is possible to be, overshadowing trivia like the descent of the United States of America into tyrannous corruption.
But for the heart of the story, its emotional and moral nub, you need to go to Ireland itself and a local radio station that managed to secure an interview by telephone with the locked-down star. One of the announcers, Nathan O’Reilly, was so overwhelmed by the occasion that he said, and I quote, ‘‘Matt,’’ – yes, he addressed him as Matt – ‘‘I honestly feel like I’m about to throw up. That in a few seconds I’m going to wake up naked with drool on my pillow.’’
Who doesn’t know how Nathan feels? I am not easily moved but this is such a story that I find myself scouring the keyboard for ultra capitals. I want to sprinkle the text with exclamation marks.
Consider Siobhan Berry. Ms Berry, a Dalkey local, bumped into Matt Damon in person (IN PERSON!) and took a photo that shows Matt Damon carrying a Supervalu bag (A SUPERVALU BAG!) and in the Supervalu bag were – are you ready for this now? – MATT DAMON’S SWIMMING TOGS!!
Ms Berry did not manage to photograph the togs themselves, the togs – lest we forget – that have enclosed the, well, the parts, but perhaps that is for the best. We need unknowns in this world, or what’s imagination for?
But the point of this story is its ordinariness. For just as Jesus can ride into Jerusalem on a humble donkey so Matt Damon can appear in any neighbourhood at any time carrying his togs in a supermarket bag. Wonder abounds in this world. We never know what’s round the corner. Anywhere can be a Dalkey.
And if that thought doesn’t constitute a silver lining, if it doesn’t make hope leap in your chest like a salmon and give you the courage to persevere through this existential crisis of our species, then I’m a 63-year-old newspaper columnist.