The Truman Show

When Mimi and I reached the end of the cliff walk and arrived into that brand new estate on the northern fringe of Greystones, we were both reminded of the artificial world of the Truman Show. 
I explained to her that it takes a couple of year for a new estate to mature, to lose its artificiality, to develop a soul. 
We saw Honeypark spring out of the old Dun Laoghaire golf club. We've seen it when it was all plasticky and new, when the asphalt was all smooth and shiny and unstained and soulless. And all the house were identical and new and shiny and plasticky and soulless. 
And now somehow, it is a neighbourhood. 

I asked the woman with the Irish Wolfhound the size of a poney if she knew that there is a dedicated small dogs section in the dog park just a 100 yards from where we were. 
How we laughed.