Background Running


10 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount.

    All waited. Then wheels were heard from in front, turning: then nearer: horses’ hoof. A jolt. Their carriage began to move, creaking and swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The blinds of the avenue passed and number ten with its craped knocker, door ajar. At walking pace.

James Joyce, The Little Review “Ulysses” (p. 78).


9 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount.

    All waited. Then wheels were heard from in front, turning: then nearer: horses’ hoof. A jolt. Their carriage began to move, creaking and swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The blinds of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. At walking pace.

James Joyce, Ulysses (p. 72).

Route map from

Route map from

The quotations above from Ulysses refer to the beginning of the funeral procession from Paddy Dignam’s house in Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount, from where it begins to make its way to Glasnevin Cemetery. The two quotes are identical save for the change in house number from number ten to number nine.

The first quote is from the book The Little Review “Ulysses” which gathers together the serialised Chapters of Ulysses from The Little Review. The episode was originally published in The Little Review in September 1918 and episodes were published as a book in 2015. The second, revised quote is from Ulysses as published in 1922.

Episode VI, known as the Hades Chapter was published in The Little Review in September 1918 in the United States. Episodes 1- XIV were published in serial form, but stopped before the book was complete, due to censorship issues. The full address of the house, as opposed to just the number of the house the procession is passing, 9 Newbridge Avenue, does not appear in print until Ulysses was published as a novel in 1922 where the address is listed in the Eumaeus episode towards the end of the book, when Bloom reads it in the obituary section of the Telegraph whilst in the cabman’s shelter near Butt Bridge.

Why did Joyce change the house numbers? In the Thom’s Directory of 1904, which Joyce used as a reference check for places and people listed in Ulysses, the house at 9 Newbridge Avenue is listed as vacant, whereas the house at 10 Newbridge Avenue is occupied by a Mr. P Gorman. Perhaps Joyce simply wanted to use an empty house in case of a law suit over the use of an occupied premises He had had more than enough trouble with Dubliners over similar issues. As the location was to be the scene of the death and removal of the occupant, Paddy Dignam, the issues were perhaps more sensitive than most.


36 Bengal Terrace, formerly 5 Bengal Terrace, Finglas.

This funeral procession begins with house numbers that were changed as Joyce’s writing developed. At the end of the Dignam funeral procession, as Glasnevin Cemetery is reached, a mistaken house location arises.

       Mr. Power pointed.
That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house.
—So it is , Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off.
Murdered his brother. Or so they said.

—The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said.
—Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That’s the maxim of the law. Better for ninety-nine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be wrongfully condemned.

James Joyce, Ulysses (p.82).

The Childs murder did not take place in the last house, which was number 6 Bengal Terrace. The terrace consists of 6 houses as you can see in the image below. Thomas Childs lived in house number 5, the second last house in the terrace and the second house from the left in the image. Glasnevin Cemetery is immediately to the left of the photograph, adjoining the last house in the terrace. It could be that Joyce is mistaken, or it could be that he wants Simon Dedalus to be mistaken about the location of the Childs murder. Joyce knew Bengal Terrace well, as did his father, John Stanislaus Joyce, the model for Simon Dedalus. James Joyce’s aunt Josephine Giltrap’s family lived there.


Bengal Terrace, Finglas. Image from Apple Maps.

Thomas Childs was murdered on September 2nd 1899. His brother, Samuel Childs was charged with the murder. The Childs case is examined in-depth in Adrian Hardiman’s book, Joyce in Court, James Joyce and the Law.

Hardiman writes about the Giltrap’s.

   Josephine’s father, James Giltrap, a legal cost accountant, provides the first coincidental link between the Joyces and the Childs murder. On 1 September 1899, the day before Thomas Childs was killed, old James died in No.6 Bengal Terrace. His funeral left the house on the Monday and the preparations for it must have taken place over the weekend. The comings and goings of policemen, doctors, relatives and undertakers at No. 5 Bengal Terrace cannot have escaped the attention of mourners for Mr Giltrap, very probably including James Joyce. The inquest on Thomas Childs was opened in 5 Bengal Terrace on the day of Mr Giltrap’s funeral (where the jury viewed the body of Thomas Childs) and actually moved into number 6 to take evidence of a bedridden lady there.

Adrian Hardiman, Joyce in Court (p.155,156)

It seems that Thomas Childs only lived in the house for a year. Thomas Childs is listed as living there in Thom’s Directory 1899, whereas the house is listed as vacant in the Thom’s Directory 1900Thom’s Directory 1898 has a Mr. Edward Kelly living there, as he had done for a number of years.

Joyce changed the house numbers in Newbridge Avenue as the writing of Ulysses moved towards the novel’s  publication. He may have made an error in describing the Child’s house as the last house in Bengal Terrace. But he was not alone. Although Hardiman writes that the Giltrap’s lived in Number 6, Thom’s Directory 1899 lists Thomas Childs as living in Number 5 and a John H. Giltrap as living in number 3 Bengal Terrace, which he had done for a number of years. A Mr. John Hilferty lived at Number 6 Bengal Terrace.

As well as confirming the houses that each of the residents lived in, The Irish Times of Friday September 22 1899, notes a confusion as to the district the murders took place in.

    Mr. Clegg, addressing the magistrate, said that the prisoner, Samuel Childs, was charged with the murder of his own brother under circumstances of extreme and horrifying brutality. The case was known as “The Glasnevin murder” but he believed in fact that the place where the murder occurred was not Glasnevin.

Thom’s Directory lists Bengal Place as being in Finglas, rather than Glasnevin. The terrace was renumbered between 1910 and 1912, with number 5 becoming number 36 and number 6 becoming number 38.

Does any of this matter? Who cares about the names and numbers, people and places, real and imagined? Does it matter whether the murder took place in Finglas or Glasnevin, or that Mr. Giltrap’s first name is given as John and James in different places? Perhaps not. But if your interest is the development of literature, paralleled with the development of a city, then they do. James Joyce’s use of Thom’s Directory is interesting to many scholars, as is his moving of places and events in Dublin to suit his literary needs. In the first case, the moving of house number 10 to house number 9 was probably down to his careful study of Thom’s. In the second case his character’s location of the murder differs from Thom’s and other records such as The Irish Times. Joyce was possibly so familiar with the terrace that he did not check, and Thomas Childs only lived there for a short period of time.

People make mistakes. For the accused, Samuel Childs, mistakes and small details mattered, He was acquitted of the murder of his brother, as acknowledged by Simon Dedalus in Ulysses.

Thomas Childs and James Giltrap lived two doors, and died one day, apart. As they were from different religions they were buried in very different parts of the City.  Vivien Igoe in her book, The Real People of Joyce’s Ulysses notes that James Giltrap died in the Hospice in Harold’s Cross and was moved across the city to be buried in mainly Catholic Prospect Cemetery in Glasnevin, beside his home in Bengal Terrace. James Giltrap, being a Protestant took an almost exactly opposite journey. He died in his home beside Prospect Cemetery, but was buried in Mount Jerome cemetery in Harold’s Cross. The difference between the reality of their two lives, their deaths and their own funeral processions, traversing the River Liffey, in contrast to the fictionalised funeral procession of Paddy Dignam is what I find most interesting.

Route Notes

Most routes in this blogpost involve a lot of advanced planning to create an interesting run and an interesting read. In this case I simply ran the funeral procession route from the Hades episode of Ulysses. It is one of the simplest routes that any of the characters in Ulysses take.

I am always working on a variety of blogposts and as I have developed more of them, they have got more complex both in terms of the running, the research and the writing. In this one picked what I thought was a simple topic of interest and prepared to run.

My original interest and theme was the different house numbers at the start and end of the route, which I think make an interesting counterpoint. As my research developed and the blogpost began to take shape, what became of greater interest was the  story of the closeness of the death, both in time and in space of Thomas Childs and James Giltrap and the difference in their funeral processions.

One interesting aside is that, as noted by Robert Martin Adams in Surface and Symbol, The Consistency of James Joyce’s Ulysses (p.174) Bloom’s client in Ulysses, Alexander Keyes was in reality one of the original jurors on the Childs case.

There are many other events and people that can be linked to this route and episode from Ulysses. I plan to return to it.


Adams, R.M. (1967) Surface and Symbol, The Consistency of James Joyce’s Ulysses, New York, United States: Oxford University Press.

Hardiman, A. (2017). Joyce in Court. 1st ed. London: Head of Zeus.

Gunn, I. and Hart, C. (2004) James Joyce’s Dublin: A Topographical Guide to the Dublin of Ulysses. London, United Kingdom: Thames & Hudson.

Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterword by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2015) The Little Review “Ulysses”. Edited by Mark Gaipa, Sean Latham, and Robert Scholes. New Haven, CT, United States: Yale University Press.

McCarthy, J.F. and Rose, D. (1991) Joyce’s Dublin: A Walking Guide to Ulysses. New York, United States: St. Martin’s Press

Nicholson, R. (2015) The Ulysses Guide. Dublin, Ireland: New Island Books.

Igoe, V. (2016) The Real People of Joyce’s Ulysses: A Biographical Guide. Dublin, Ireland: University College Dublin Press.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


The Quadrangle at University College Cork


Cork Route on

   Stephen was once again seated beside his father in the corner of a railway carriage at Kingsbridge. He was travelling with his father by the night mail to Cork. As the train steamed out of the station he recalled his childish wonder of years before and every event of his first day in Clongowes. But he felt no wonder now. He saw the darkening lands slipping away past him, the silent telegraph poles passing his window swiftly every four seconds, the little glimmering stations, manned by a few silent sentries, flung by the mail behind her and twinkling for a moment in the darkness like fiery grains flung backwards by a runner.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (p. 76)

James Joyce is famous for writing about Dublin. What is less well-known is his paternal ancestry in the county and city of Cork. His father, John Stanislaus Joyce was born in Cork in 1849 and father and son went together to the southern capital in 1893 for the sale of family property. James Joyce fictionalises the journey in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when the young Stephen Dedalus visits Cork with his father Simon, making the journey south on the train from Kingsbridge, now Hueston Station.

John Stanislaus Joyce was an only child and on his birthday at the age of 21 on the 4th of July 1870, he inherited £1000 and properties with an annual rental income of £325.When his mother died in 1881, the year before James Joyce was born, John Stanislaus inherited property in Cork city with an annual rent of some £500 per year, the key part of which was on White Street, just to the south of the southern channel of the River Lee.

John Stanislaus Joyce was commonly known as Jack, just as his son James was commonly called Jim. His grandson Ken Monaghan writes.

Jack’s father James (another James) had married Ellen O’Connell who was the daughter of a wealthy Cork businessman and the young couple lived in a nice house in a fashionable suburb of the city. Jack was to be their only child and as such he was spoiled and cosseted and brought up to believe that the O’Connell-Joyces, as they called themselves, were special and that the male members of the family were gentlemen and should always behave as such. The latter idea appealed to young Jack since his concept of a gentleman was someone who would never have to work for a living. Jack Joyce throughout his life did his best to live up to this ideal.

Ken Monaghan Joyce’s Dublin Family (p.23,24)

His son Stanislaus described him, Pappie is the only child of an only child (his father) and therefore the spoiled son of a spoiled son, the spendthrift son of a spendthrift.

Stanislaus Joyce, The Complete Dublin Diary of Stanislaus Joyce (p.5)

John Stanislaus left Cork for Dublin as a prosperous single man in the mid 1870’s. This all changed when he got there. His financial decline began in Dublin but it was largely influenced by events that took place in Cork.

Route Notes

Just as the Joyce’s and the Daedalus’s did, I took the train to Cork from Dublin, in my case from Hueston Station and in theirs, Kingsbridge. I passed through Port Laoise, then called Maryborough and arrived in Cork at Kent Station, formerly Glanmire Road Station. The journey was largely the same but all of the names have changed since the foundation of the Irish State.

Joyce wrote about his experiences of visiting Cork in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and he also wrote of travelling south by train in Ulysses where the train carrying Molly and Leopold Bloom is mentioned passing through Maryborough on its way to Mallow.

   At Maryborough he fell asleep. When he awoke the train had passed out of Mallow and his father was stretched asleep on the other seat. The cold light of the dawn lay over the country, over the unpeopled fields and the closed cottages. 

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (p. 76)

Stephen fell asleep in Maryborough, the same place that Bloom buys some soup.

…something always happens with him the time going to the Mallow concert at Maryborough ordering boiling soup for the two of us then the bell rang out he walks down the platform with the soup splashing about taking spoonfuls of it hadnt he the nerve and the waiter after him making a holy show of us screeching and confusion for the engine to start but he wouldnt pay till he finished it the two gentlemen in the 3rd class carriage said he was quite right so he was too hes so pigheaded sometimes when he gets a thing into his head a good job he was able to open the carriage door with his knife or theyd have taken us on to Cork I suppose that was done out of revenge on him…

James Joyce, Ulysses (p. 616)

Joyce last visited Cork on December 12th 1909 when he was setting up cinemas in Ireland, the first being the Volta Cinema in Mary Street, Dublin. Once again he went by train from Kingsbridge, returning to Dublin late on the same evening. His biographer Richard Ellmann notes that Joyce wrote to his brother Stanislaus “For five rainy dreary hours we were mooning around Cork.” Ellmann (p.302)

Unlike Joyce I arrive in Cork on a beautiful sunny evening.

The Start: Kent Station

The run begins at the entrance to Kent Station.


Kent Station, Cork

Lower Glanmire Road (West)

I am running, but Stephen and his father took a jingle, a horse drawn carriage, on their trip into the city. Interestingly the Joyce family were in the jingle business, John Stanislaus’s father, also named James Joyce, was the Inspector of Hackney Coaches in the city.

MacCurtain Street (West)

Lower Glanmire Road runs into MacCurtain Street. In Joyce’s time these were King’s Terrace and King Street and a tramline ran down the centre of the street. There is a great photo of King Street from c.1900 online here

Bridge Street (South)

I head south and cross the River Lee for the first time on this journey across Cork. In crossing Dublin I crossed the river Liffey once, but the centre of Cork is an island and I will cross the River Lee four times on this run.

Local historian Tom Spalding writes

Cork is unusual for an Irish city in having been largely developed on a series of Dutch-style reclaimed islands, or ‘polders’. Low-lying marshy areas were raised above the high-tide level using rubble and whatever else could be acquired. These islands were separated by estuarine channels ‘over which (were) small drawbridges, somewhat like those in Holland.’ Some of these could be raised to allow shipping to pass, as at the end of Drawbridge St., where a lifting bridge crossed over the branch of the Lee which ran down present-day Patrick’s St.

Tom Spalding, Layers: The Design, History and Meaning of Public Street Signage in Cork and other Irish Cities (p.22)

Saint Patrick’s Street (South)

All the maps and signs refer to Saint Patrick’s Street, but I have only ever heard it referred to locally as Patrick’s Street.

Stephen and his father Simon stayed at the Victoria Hotel, which is mid-way along Patrick Street on the southern side. Once a fine city centre hotel, it was put up for sale in 2014. You can see details of the proposed sale here

Simon Dedalus sings this to his son, Stephen Dedalus in the Hotel.

‘Tis youth and folly
Makes young men marry,
So here, my love, I’ll
No longer stay.
What can’t be cured, sure,
Must be injured, sure,
So I’ll go to

My love she’s handsome,
My love she’s boney:
She’s like good whisky
When it is new;
But when ’tis old
And growing cold
It fades and dies like
The mountain dew.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man  (p. 77)

Wyse Jackson and Costello, in their biography John Stanislaus Joyce: The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father (p.218) note that it was one of John Stanislaus’s favourite songs.

At the other end of the block Stephen and his father drank coffee in Newcombe’s coffeehouse.

   They had set out early in the morning from Newcombe’s coffeehouse, where Mr Dedalus’s cup had rattled noisily against its saucer, and Stephen had tried to cover that shameful sign of his father’s drinking bout of the night before by moving his chair and coughing.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man  (p. 82)

Newcombe’s coffee-house from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is almost certainly Newsom’s, which was located a few doors down from the Victoria Hotel at 41 Patrick Street. There are posters from Newsom’s Cafe de Paris from 1883 to view online hereYou can see Newsom’s Coffee House and the Victoria Hotel from the Lawrence Collection on here.

Saint Peter and Saint Paul’s Place (North)

I crossed the street and went along Saint Peter and Saint Paul’s Place. The church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul dominates the view and is where according To Richard Ellmann (p.13), James Joyce’s paternal grandparents, James Augustine Joyce and Ellen O’Connell, were married on February 28th 1848.

The church has an interesting website and is unusual as it has both external and internal Google Street View images. You can access them on the church website here.


Saint Peter and Saint Paul’s Catholic Church

Paul Street (West) Grand Parade (South) South Mall (East) 

I continue through the centre of Cork City, making my way towards the site of Joyce’s grandparents house. The Grand Parade was originally a water way, filled in in the latter half of the 18th century.

Parliament Street and Parliament Bridge (South)

I cross the River Lee for the second time over what was the most easterly fixed bridge on southern channel of the River Lee. Spalding notes that the names of Parliament Bridge and Street date from the 1760’s as Parliament provided the capital cost of the infrastructure (p.100).

George’s Quay (East)


Cork Historic Map 25 inch (1888-1913)

The route heads east along the riverbank getting closer to the area that the Joyce family lived and owned property in. Ellmann (p.38) lists sales in 1893 of ground and buildings to the rear of South Terrace, a coach house and stable in Stable Lane, ground and buildings at 7 and 8 Anglesea Street and premises in White Street.

You can see the area on 1888-1913 Ordnance Survey maps on here

Copley Street (East) Anglesea Street (South) South Terrace (West)

The run continues along Copley Street, passing around Anglesea Street and South Terrace. Rose Cottage, the Joyce family home was located at the junction of Anglesea Street and Copley Street. Simon Daedalus tells Stephen about getting caught smoking around the corner of South Terrace.

I’m talking to you as a friend, Stephen. I don’t believe in playing the stern father. I don’t believe a son should be afraid of his father. No, I treat you as your grandfather treated me when I was a young chap. We were more like brothers than father and son. I’ll never forget the first day he caught me smoking. I was standing at the end of the South Terrace one day with some maneens like myself and sure we thought we were grand fellows because we had pipes stuck in the corners of our mouths. Suddenly the governor passed. He didn’t say a word, or stop even. But the next day, Sunday, we were out for a walk together and when we were coming home he took out his cigar case and said: By the bye, Simon, I didn’t know you smoked: or something like that. —Of course I tried to carry it off as best I could. If you want a good smoke, he said, try one of these cigars. An American captain made me a present of them last night in Queenstown.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (p. 80)

After I first published this blogpost a comment was posted by about the plaque in the ground outside 20 Anglesea Street.

The plaque reads:

James Augustine Joyce 1827 – 1866 (Grandfather of James Joyce 1882-1941) Resided in this house. James A Joyce was an Officer of the Cork Corporation by whom this plaque was provided 1984.

In the biography of John Stanislaus Joyce, the missing link between the two James Joyce’s mentioned on the plaque. Wyse Jackson and Costello, in John Stanislaus Joyce: The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father say that the Joyce house stood in its own grounds where Copley Street ran into Anglesea Street (page 24). This would seem to be on the opposite side of the street to the plaque.

White Street (South)

It is on this street that John Stanislaus Joyce most significant Cork property was located.

Douglas Street (West) and Abbey Street (West)

I chose to run along Douglas Street, passing the Presentation Convent where John Stanislaus made his First Holy Communion.

South Great Bridge and South Main Street (North)

The run heads north back across the River Lee and past the Beamish and Crawford Brewery. Guinness is much mentioned in the writings of James Joyce, and despite the fact that Simon and Stephen go from bar to bar after their property is sold, whether Simon drank Beamish and Crawford stout goes unmentioned.

Liberty Street, Sheares Street, Dyke Street (West)

These streets all mark the start of the road west out of the city centre towards the Mardyke. It is a popular walk to this day with the sun setting in the west at the end of the Mardyke.

Sheares Street was named after Henry and John Sheares, United Irishmen, executed in 1798. They are remembered in Ulysses.

   And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she’s far from the land. 

James Joyce, Ulysses (p. 251)

Mardyke Walk (West)

  The leaves of the trees along the Mardyke were astir and whispering in the sunlight. A team of cricketers passed, agile young men in flannels and blazers, one of them carrying the long green wicket-bag…Stephen walked on at his father’s side, listening to stories he had heard before, hearing again the names of the scattered and dead revellers who had been the companions of his father’s youth.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (p. 79)

Great Western Road (East)

This road takes back to the east and towards the entrance to University College Cork, formerly Queen’s College.

Stephen’s father Simon studied at Queen’s College and he takes Stephen there as he is reminiscing about his time in Cork. As with much of their trip to Cork, it mirrors real events as John Stanislaus Joyce entered Queen’s College as a medical student in 1867.

I enter UCC as a runner, crossing the River Lee for the fourth and last time.

The Finish: The Quadrangle UCC

On the desk before him he read the word Foetus cut several times in the dark stained wood. The sudden legend startled his blood: he seemed to feel the absent students of the college about him and to shrink from their company. A vision of their life, which his father’s words had been powerless to evoke, sprang up before him out of the word cut in the desk. A broad-shouldered student with a moustache was cutting in the letters with a jackknife, seriously. 

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (p. 78)

The run ends in the Quadrangle. Unsurprisingly I did not find the word Foetus carved anywhere in UCC. However there is a very interesting exhibition of Ogham stones in the cloisters. More meanings carved into objects a long time ago.

Route Planning

I know Cork reasonably well, but not well enough to run around not without some pre-planning. Like all the runs, I was looking for content in Joyce’s family biography, writings in the texts and also visual interest. Staring at the train station and ending at the Quadrangle in UCC took me along the city and across the Lee a number of times, and I freely passed a lot of pubs.

I guessed the route was about 7km but decided to use Google Maps to check. It gave a distance of 7.52km. The actual route I ran was 7.77km, though I did do a complete run around the quadrangle. Next time I may take a trip across the Lee and up to Sunday’s Well which is also mentioned in the texts.


Google Maps Cork Run

I also used Apple Maps to look over the route and look for visual cues so I would know when to turn down a street.


Apple Maps Cork City Centre

References cited

Costello, P. and Jackson, J.W. (1998) John Stanislaus Joyce: The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father. London, United Kingdom: Fourth Estate.

Ellmann, R. (1983) James Joyce: New and Revised Edition. New York, United States: Oxford University Press.

Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterword by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2007) A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Authoritative Text, Backgrounds and Contexts Criticism. Edited by John Paul Riquelme, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Joyce, S. (1994) The Complete Dublin Diary of Stanislaus Joyce. Edited by George H. Healey. Dublin, Ireland: Anna Livia Press.

Monaghan, K. (2005) Joyce’s Dublin Family. Dublin: The James Joyce Centre.

Spalding, T. (2013) Layers: The Design, History and Meaning of Public Street Signage in Cork and other Irish Cities. Foreward by Phil Baines edn. Dublin, Ireland: Associated Editions. Accessed 25 May 2016 Accessed 25 May 2016,567855,571556,11,9. Accessed 19th June 2016


There is a longer bibliography of background material here


You can see more on my research output on the Dublin Institute of Technology repository Arrowhere


Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


Thanks to Tom Spalding for all his Cork related advice. Thanks also to the reader Frank for his comments regarding the plaque in the ground outside 20 Anglesea Street.





            A girl stood before him in midstream: alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane’s and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and softhued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird’s, soft and slight; slight and soft as the breast of some darkplumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.
She was alone and still, gazing out to sea; and when she felt his presence and the worship of his eyes her eyes turned to him in quiet sufferance of his gaze, without shame or wantonness. Long, long she suffered his gaze and then quietly withdrew her eyes from his and bent them towards the stream, gently stirring the water with her foot hither and thither. The first faint noise of gently moving water broke the silence, low and faint and whispering, faint as the bells of sleep; hither and thither, hither and thither: and a faint flame trembled on her cheek.

—Heavenly God! cried Stephen’s soul, in an outburst of profane joy.

James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man  (Page 150)

The quote above is from the closing passages of Part IV of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man where Stephen Dedalus walks out the Bull Wall on the north side of the River Liffey. Much has been made of the parallels between Stephen Dedalus and the young James Joyce, as well as the middle aged Leopold Bloom and James Joyce.

It is interesting to compare the quote above from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man with the following quote from the Nausikaa episode of Ulysses.

And she saw a long Roman candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in the tense hush, they were all breathless with excitement as it went higher and higher and she had to lean back more and more to look up after it, high, high, almost out of sight, and her face was suffused with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other things too, nainsook knickers, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, on account of being white and she let him and she saw that he saw and then it went so high it went out of sight a moment and she was trembling in every limb from being bent so far back that he had a full view high up above her knee where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading and she wasn’t ashamed and he wasn’t either to look in that immodest way like that because he couldn’t resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he kept on looking, looking. She would fain have cried to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips laid on her white brow, the cry of a young girl’s love, a little strangled cry, wrung from her, that cry that has rung through the ages. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!

James Joyce, Ulysses (Page 300)

It was darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and slippy seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her but with care and very slowly because —because Gerty MacDowell was…
    Tight boots? No. She’s lame! O!
    Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Poor girl! That’s why she’s left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was wrong by the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show. Hot little devil all the same. I wouldn’t mind. 

James Joyce, Ulysses (Page 301)

The similarities of locations and scenes is striking and makes an interesting comparison. In each case the observers and observed are aware of each other. The Young Stephen sees the perfect beauty stirring the water with her foot, has a religious experience and an outburst of profane joy. The older Bloom on the shoreline on the south side of the River Liffey, masturbates onto his shirt, as the roman candle  firework explodes high over the trees behind the foreshore. And when the Gerty rises from the sand her foot does not gently stir the water, but instead she is lame and she limps away.

The quotes above are from novels. In Joyce’s second published short story, An Encounter from Dubliners there is also a sexual encounter and in this case, not with a young woman viewed by the young artist or middle aged advertising salesman, but with a middle aged man who preys upon the young boys with his own fantasies.

Then he asked us which of us had the most sweethearts. Mahony mentioned lightly that he had three totties. The man asked me how many had I. I answered that I had none. He did not believe me and said he was sure I must have one. I was silent.
—Tell us, said Mahony pertly to the man, how many have you yourself?
   The man smiled as before and said that when he was our age he had lots of sweethearts. Every boy,he said, has a little sweetheart.

James Joyce, An Encounter, Dubliners (Pages 17, 18)

Route Notes

In these runs I try to link places  that have a relationship with Joyce’s life and writings. Hence the route runs between the two shoreline encounters, one on the north of the River Liffey and one on the South. I deliberately ran through Fairview, which is now a public park, but in the early 1900’s was mudflats, that Fr. Conmee avoided walking along, by taking the tram in the Wandering Rocks episode of Ulysses. I then headed along Wharf Road (now East Wall Road), following the route mentioned in An Encounter before crossing by the East Link bridge to Ringsend Village. In the story the narrator goes by ferry boat. The field in in An Encounter is most probably on Fitzwilliam Quay. The route also passes along the Dodder opposite the Swan River, mentioned in Finnegans Wake and past Paddy Dignam’s house on Newbridge Avenue from Ulysses.

You can see extent of the mudflats now Fairview Park in the images from below



Like the young narrator of the story, I was also too tired to visit the Pigeon House, this being the first blogpost written after a layoff from injury.

It was too late and we were too tired to carry out our project of visiting the Pigeon House

James Joyce, An Encounter, Dubliners (Page 16)

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper

References Cited

Joyce, J., Gabler, H. W. and Hettche, W. (2006) Dubliners (Norton critical edition). Edited by Margot Norris. 1st edn. Norton, W. W. & Company. New York, USA.

Joyce, J. (2007) A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Norton critical edition). Edited by John Paul Riquelme, Walter Hettche, and Hans Walter Gabler. Norton, W. W. & Company.New York, USA.

Joyce, J. (1986) Ulysses: Corrected texts (ed. Gabler, H.W., with Steppe, W. and Melchior, C., Afterword Groden, M.) First Vintage Books Edition, New York, USA.




Google Maps_03Screenshot 2015-11-15 16.12.11

    Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write a message for her. Might remain. What?
    Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark mirror, breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. O, those transparent! Besides they don’t know. What is the meaning of that other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not like.
    AM. A.
    No room. Let it go.
    Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand. Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here. Except Guinness’s barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by design.
He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn’t. Chance. We’ll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made me feel so young.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 312)

The quote is from the Nausikaa episode of Ulysses where Leopold Bloom is on the seashore behind the church, Mary star of the sea in Sandymount. Bloom is observing Gerty McDowell who is on the seashore with her friends Edy Boardman, Cissy Caffrey, her young twin brothers and baby Boardman.

Bloom is fixated on Gerty MacDowell and towards the end of the episode he draws a message in the sand. Whilst we cannot be certain what the intended message was, many believe that the word after I. AM. A., is cuckold, Bloom having been cuckolded by Blazes Boylan that afternoon at 16:00 in 7 Eccles Street. The last word of the episode is cuckoo, repeated several times.

The area behind the church, formerly the foreshore, is now reclaimed land, used as a public park and as playing fields for the Clann Na Gael Fontenoy GAA club.

You can look and compare the historic and contemporary mapping on the Ordnance Survey of Ireland WebsiteYou can select areas of the city and apply different layers of contemporary and historic data. I like to compare the contemporary maps with the Historic 25″ Map from 1888-1913, contemporaneous with the period of time when Joyce lived in and wrote about, Dublin. You can look at the mapping on this link:

The overlayed image below shows the general area where I ran with the original coastline prominent on the lower left and the new reclaimed area to the right.


A detailed extract at the back of St. Mary’s Star of The Sea Church shows the dark line of the original sea wall more clearly.


I decided that just as Bloom’s words were washed away by the sand and were fleeting in nature, I would run a route that would track words as a form of GPS Art, only existing in computer code.

This post, although short in distance, was complex in planning. My original idea was to run the word Joyce on the open space on Sandymount Strand. I experimented with various forms of typeface but they all involved a lot of complex turns. I wasn’t sure how I would manage these and know where to change direction, without laying out a lot of cones and extensive preparation work. Then I thought I would run a freeform script but worried I would get dizzy and disorientated. You can see some of the plans in my notebook image below.


At a later date I thought about running the text that Bloom actually writes in the sand. I.AM.A. I quickly realised that this was much easier to run. The A and the M are essentially similar, the hard part being how to run the horizontal lines of the letter A. You can see in the image below how much simpler the running pattern would be. I decided to run on the playing pitches of Clann Na Gael and use the floodlights as visual markers. Even though this is conceptually easy…it took several runs to get the hang of it and to get the GPS map to work correctly so that it looked like written text in the various mapping apps such as Runkeeper and Google Earth both used at the top of this blogpost. The key learning was that I would have to run a large pattern and not double back at all, except where I had to in order to make the horizontal lines of the letter A.


I decided to start the run from the Saint Mary’s Star of the Sea Church, onto the reclaimed land at Clann Na Gael to make my virtual text and then out of the park and onto Dromard Terrace. Joyce spent the night of 16th June 1904, the day on which Ulysses is set, in the house at 22 Dromard Terrace owned by his friends James and Gretta Cousins. Once there I looped back to the church along Sandymount Road.

This extract from Apple Maps shows an overview of the area of route with the dropped pin indicating the centre of the the text run.



Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper

In deciding to do the run I was inspired by the artist Jeremy Wood who has done a number of GPS Art projects. You can see his work here.

Harry Kernoff – Jammet’s Restaurant, Dublin


    He had never been in Corless’s but he knew the value of the name. He knew that people went there after the theatre to eat oysters and drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke French and German. Walking swiftly by at night he had seen cabs drawn up before the door and richly dressed ladies, escorted by cavaliers, alight and enter quickly. They wore noisy dresses and many wraps. Their faces were powdered and they caught up their dresses, when they touched earth, like alarmed Atalantas.

James Joyce, A Little Cloud, Dubliners, (Pages 58)

Joyce liked fine dining and there was no place better in Dublin in the early 1900’s than Jammet’s, which began as Corless’s in the late 1800’s. As is pointed out in the notes by Terence Brown in the Penguin edition (2000) of Dubliners, by the time the A Little Cloud was written, Corless’s had become Jammet’s but was still popularly known as Corless’s.

Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire has written extensively on the history of restaurants in Dublin and writes about the development of Jammet’s.

In November 1884, Thomas Corless advertised in The Irish Times the presence of a First-class French Cook‘ in The Burlington Restaurant and Dining Rooms, Andrew Street and Church Lane … In 1900, Michel and François Jammet bought the Burlington Restaurant and Oyster Saloons at 27 St Andrew Street, Dublin from Tom Corless. They refitted, and renamed it The Jammet Hotel and Restaurant in 1901, and it became pre-eminent among the restaurants of Dublin.

Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire, ‘From Jammet’s to Guilbaud’s’ The Influence of French Haute Cuisine on the Development of Dublin Restaurants (pages 4,5)

The Oysters that Little Chandler is thinking of, were of particular value to Tom Corless.

Corless had 700 acres of oyster beds in Clifden Bay. In 1896 Tom Corless becomes embroiled in a legal action with John N. Curtain of Ballyvaughan over a statement he issued that not a single Red Bank oyster had come into the Dublin Market since 1875. The case is comprehensively detailed in The Irish Times (2/5/1896:11), the outcome of which saw Corless lose and fined damages of £10, which was much less than the £1000 the plaintiff, Mr. Curtain originally sought.

 The Emergence, Development and Influence of French Haute Cuisine on Public Dining in Dublin Restaurants 1900-2000: An Oral History (Pages 103, 104).

Joyce loved fine dining and what would now be called living it large. Joyce loved Jammet’s, as his friend Arthur Power notes:

He seemed to have a passion for an ordered life, and I thought it was a reaction from his former life in Dublin, from the poverty and bohemianism of his youth, of which one heard various accounts from people who had known him at the time. One day, meeting his friends in the street, he told each of them that they must meet him again on the following Saturday at midday at the bottom of Grafton Street with a pound note in their pockets – a matter, he intimated to them, of the utmost urgency. On the following Saturday a number of them turned up.
–Have you all got your pound notes? he asked, and when they produced the promised money he said, now let us all go and dine in Jammet’s – Jammet’s being at that time Dublin’s best known and expensive restaurant, a few yards from their meeting place. Such and other stories are told of Joyce’s bohemian youth, but in Paris he lived the most ordinary life imaginable, remaining shut up in his flat during most of the day.

Arthur Power, Conversations with James Joyce (Page 52)

Harry Kernoff painted the original Jammet’s, before the restaurant was relocated to Nassau Street in 1927. Like the restaurant, the painting moved across town. In this case to Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud in Merrion Street Upper, Dublin 2.

Jammet’s is mentioned twice by name in Ulysses. Once by Corny Kelleher towards the end of the Circe episode and once in Nausikaa episode on Sandymount Strand, when Bloom is looking at Gerty MacDowell.

    There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks. Up like a rocket, down like a stick. And the children, twins they must be, waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in mother’s clothes. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. And the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she could whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that highclass whore in Jammet’s wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? I’ll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, cure for fat lips. Caressing the little boy too. Onlookers see most of the game. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. In their line.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 304)

I went for a run around the sites of the two Jammet’s restaurants, past Davy Byrne’s, probably the most famous dining place in Joyce’s writings, onto The Merrion Hotel and past Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud where Harry Kernoff’s picture hangs.

The first location for Jammet’s, Dublin’s finest French restaurant, is now home to the Swedish clothing company, H&M. And its second, interestingly, as Joyce wrote of the image of the high class whore in Jammet’s, is now occupied by the nightclub Lillie’s Bordello.


Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2006) Dubliners, Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Edited by Margot Norris, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Power, A. (1999) Conversations with James Joyce. Foreword by David Norris edn. Dublin, Ireland: The Lilliput Press.

You can download Máirtín’s Mac Con Iomaire’s Ph.D. Dissertation, The Emergence, Development and Influence of French Haute Cuisine on Public Dining in Dublin Restaurants 1900-2000: An Oral History here

And his article ‘From Jammet’s to Guilbaud’s’ The Influence of French Haute Cuisine on the Development of Dublin Restaurants here

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper

With thanks to The Merrion Hotel and Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud for kind permission to use the image of the painting of Jammet’s by Harry Kernoff.



The North House, DIT Grangegorman, formerly the Male House in the Richmond District Lunatic Asylum


Extract from Ordnance Survey Map of Grangegorman. Survey dated 1888-1913


—That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says you have g.p.i, He’s up in Dottyville with Conolly Norman. General paralysis of the insane!

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 6)

Dottyville refers to the Richmond District Lunatic Asylum of which Conolly Norman, an alienist or psychiatrist, was the resident medical superintendent. The asylum subsequently became St. Brendan’s Hospital and the area is commonly known as Granagegorman. Conolly Norman died on 23 February 1908 at his home at St Dymphna’s, which is on the North Circular Road, in front of the new Phoenix Care Centre at the north west corner of the new Grangegorman Campus. There is a biography of Conolly Norman on the Royal Irish Academy website hereDespite the proximity of Grangegorman to Glasnevin Cemetery, Conolly Norman is buried in Mount Jerome on the south side of the River Liffey. The cemetery, which opened in 1836 was originally exclusively used for protestant burials.

Joyce understood Dublin keenly and at one stage lived a small distance from Grangegorman in St. Peter’s Terrace, Cabra. He describes Grangegorman in Finnegans Wake as the platauplain of Grangegorman. This phrase hints at the magnificent views across Dublin, but also the biting wind that sweeps across Grangegorman, where the new DIT campus opened in 2014. There is an interesting article about Grangegorman on the Dublin City Council website here

the rigadoons have held ragtimed revels on the platauplain of Grangegorman

James Joyce. Finnegans Wake (Page 236)

The meanings of words and phrases that Joyce compounded for Finnegans Wake are brilliantly explained on the website and the Grangegorman reference is explained here if you scroll down to page 236. Dottyville is another obvious compound word. Glynn Anderson writes in his book Birds of Ireland, Facts, Folklore & History that the word Dotty is derived from the dotterel bird, known in Irish as Amadán móinteach, or “bog idiot”, because it was so docile it was easily captured by humans.

Joyce’s daughter Lucia suffered from mental health issues. She went on an ill fated trip to Ireland, arriving on St.Patrick’s Day 1935, where she ran amok and amongst other erratic behaviour, lit a fire in the middle of her room in the house in Meath Road, Bray. There were other bizarre incidents described in detail in Carol Loeb Shloss’s biography  Lucia Joyce, To Dance in the Wake. Joyce eventually found out about the events in Ireland. Brenda Maddox writes,

As all of this went on, Joyce protested that no one wrote to Nora and him. That was not true. Eileen had wired him of her alarm but Joyce brushed her off: ‘The scenes that scared you and Miss Weaver are nothing to speak of. Her mother stood four years of much worse than that.’ Nonetheless he asked Constantine Curran, with his wife and daughter , to drive down to Bray to see what was going on. It did not take them long to see that Lucia was living in disorder and was incapable of looking after herself. Mrs. Curran and Elizabeth sorted out Lucia’s beautiful clothes, which were in a terrible heap. Even as Lucia, who was a heavy smoker, watched them, hew tweed jacket caught fire from a box of matches in her pocket.
    Alarmed at what they found, Curran wrote at length to Nora rather than to Joyce. He recommended taking Lucia to see an American-trained psychoanalytic doctor in Dublin. Joyce, annoyed because Curran had not reported directly to him and distrustful of psychoanalysts, cabled immediately that no such appointment was to take place. Joyce was resolved to continue with his strategy of allowing Lucia total freedom, seeing that all medical attempts at restraint had filed, The one thing Lucia hated, he knew, was being under surveillance.

Brenda Maddox. Nora (Pages 411, 412)

Lucia ended her trip with a three week stay in Farnham House, an asylum in Finglas, just to the north of Grangegorman. She left Ireland in July of the same year. Later she was resident in St.Andrews Hospital, formerly the Northampton General Lunatic Asylum, in Northamptonshire, England, where she lived from 1951 until her death in 1982. Whilst there she had visits from Samuel Beckett and Miss Weaver, Joyce’s patron. It is interesting to speculate that if Joyce had returned to Ireland, Lucia may herself have ended up in Grangegorman.


Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2000) Finnegans Wake. Introduction by Seamus Deane edn. London, United Kingdom: Penguin Books.

Maddox, B. (1988) Nora: A Biography of Nora Joyce. London, United Kingdom: Hamish Hamilton.

Shloss, C.L. (2005) Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake. London, United Kingdom: Bloomsbury.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

James Joyce. Araby, Dubliners (Page 20)

Joyce does not really describe the physical elements of Dublin in any detail. The quote above gives some detail about North Richmond Street, but is scant in the portrayal of the architecture or environment. Joyce’s friend Frank Budgen describes Joyce’s descriptions in his book James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses.

But it is not by way of description that Dublin is created in Ulysses. There is a wealth of delicate pictorial evidence in Dubliners, but there is little or none in Ulysses. Streets are named but never described. Houses and interiors are shown us, but as if we entered them as familiars. Not as strangers come to take stock of the occupants and inventory their furniture. Bridges over the Liffey are crossed and recrossed and that is all.

Frank Budgen. James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses (Page 68)

I wonder if, in a novel of some 700 pages in length Joyce thought detailed physical descriptions were a distraction, or would add extra text without adding to the meaning, detracting from the motion of the narrative. But perhaps as his University friend Constantine Curran alludes to, he simply had no interest in his physical surroundings.

All my student friends were devoted to the theatre; some of them shared an equal interest in painting or music. But I never once saw Joyce in the National Gallery or at any picture exhibition or heard him make any comment on Dublin painting or architecture.

He knew the streets of Dublin by heart and his memory was a map of the town. But his interest in buildings, as in pictures, was for their associations.

C.P. Curran. James Joyce Remembered,  (Page 39)

In her biography of Nora, Brenda Maddox writes about the upgrading of the Joyce family apartment at Square Robiac in Paris.

Their friends all crowded in for a look and privately found it dreadful. The kindest verdict was the painter Myron Nutting’s: ‘comfortable and not untasteful’. Helen Fleischman regretted that it was so unattractive and even Miss Weaver, once she had braved the ordeal of a Channel crossing to come to inspect the new settled working environment she wanted Joyce to have, found it bare-looking. To Sylvia Beach she confided the hope that the Joyces would furnish the flat more fully (although she knew at whose expense this would be done).

These critics, like most of the Joyces’ visitors, were aesthetic sophisticates who expected Joyce, as a leader of the avant garde in writing, to be equally adventurous his personal surroundings.

The Joyces’ indifference to design puzzled their friends all the more because Nora and her husband took an interest in modern music.

Brenda Maddox. Nora (Page 303)

I want” said Joyce, as we were walking down the Universitätrasse, “to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book.

Frank Budgen. James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses (Pages 67, 68)

Perhaps in Joyce’s complete picture there are only people, not detailed architectural surroundings, and that is what he would recreate in his new Dublin.

And if you wonder what North Richmond Street with its brown imperturbable faces looks like in reality, here is a photograph I took in June 2015, the street little changed in its physical makeup since the story Araby was written.


North Richmond Street: 03 June 2015

Immediately to the left of the photograph, and out of the camera view is the Christian Brothers school. Edited out, much as Joyce edited out the details of his short period of education there.


Budgen, F. (1960) James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses. Bloomington, Indiana, United States: Indiana University Press.

Curran, C.P. (1968) James Joyce Remembered. London: Oxford University Press.

Joyce, J. (2006) Dubliners, Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Edited by Margot Norris, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Maddox, B. (1988) Nora: A Biography of Nora Joyce. London, United Kingdom: Hamish Hamilton.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper

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