Herzog Park in Rathgar became a geopolitical football this week, with Dublin City Council postponing a vote on whether to ‘de-name’ it after Chaim Herzog, the Belfast-born former President of Israel. The park was named in 1995 to honour Herzog, who grew up in Dublin as the son of Ireland’s first Chief Rabbi. Suddenly, it became a battleground for the usual loolahs on the far left and far right to have a go at each other.

People Before Profit councillors want it renamed, citing Herzog’s involvement with the Israeli Defence Force. US Senator Lindsey Graham labelled Ireland a ‘cesspool of anti-Semitism.’ Our own government scrambled to distance itself, with Micheál Martin, Simon Harris and Helen McEntee all condemning the proposal as divisive and wrong, and calmer heads seem to have prevailed. To be honest, when I first heard about the Herzog Park controversy, I got excited thinking they were renaming a local amenity after Werner Herzog, the German filmmaker. Imagine, a Dublin park dedicated to the man who dragged a steamship over a mountain and ate his own shoe on camera? Alas, no.

Not in my backyard

It wasn’t the only parcel of land in the salubrious surrounds of southside Dublin causing trouble this week. Over in Dartmouth Square, residents have launched a last-minute judicial review against the MetroLink, a project that’s been in the works since 2000 and has already survived three years of planning scrutiny.

Twenty residents of affluent Dartmouth Square, worried about construction noise and property values, have potentially delayed the €9.5 billion project by anywhere from 12 months to four years.

The Metro was first proposed before some of you reading this were born. I think it might have been Michael Collins that drafted the first plans, but don’t quote me on that. It’s been shelved, revised, consulted on, and approved. And now it’s being held up by people who don’t want the disruption of actually building the infrastructure that everyone agrees we desperately need (apart from Michael O’Leary, who may or may not have his own system of secret underground tunnels to bypass us mere mortals).

The government used it as an opportunity to berate those that would slow down progress due to NIMBYism. Minister Jack Chambers pointed out that Ireland averaged 17 judicial reviews per month against planning decisions in 2025, compared to fewer than 100 per year in the previous four years.

He’s now promising emergency powers to ‘rebalance rights in the Irish economy.’ But the delays to the Metro have also been caused by political inaction on an almost Olympian level.

The government seems to know its goose is cooked if it doesn’t be seen to address some of these systemic issues. But they have been in power themselves for years now. It all has a bang of finishing your homework to the sound of the Glenroe theme tune, doesn’t it.

He’s always watching

In a slightly less dated reference, the Elf on the Shelf made his annual appearance at our house this week, and suddenly Christmas got very, very real. The Elf on the Shelf (our lad is called Buddy) was never a ‘thing’ when we were growing up in West Cork but it seems to be part of the buildup now, another American import we never asked for, like pumpkin spice lattes and Rosie O’Donnell. Personally, I don’t like the behavioural monitoring aspect of it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s useful for getting the kids to pull up their socks, and Buddy has been weaponised twice already this week.

I’m less happy about the way he looks at me, though. I’ll be casually buttering my toast or cracking open a beer on Friday or watching reruns of Ireland’s Cheapest Homes…and I can feel him looking down and judging me from his perch.

That elf knows things. Terrible things.

The loss of a good man

Yes, we’re obsessed with property related television shows here in Ireland, this writer included. It’s one of those guilty pleasures we all know probably isn’t very good for us, but isn’t it lovely to indulge every once in a while.

And so, the sudden death of Hugh Wallace this week felt a bit like losing a friend you didn’t realise you had. It’s strange the way someone you’ve been watching on the screen for many years can come to feel like a friend. Tributes poured in from every corner of Irish life for the architect and Home of the Year judge.

It wasn’t surprising. Wallace radiated enthusiasm and genuine warmth, and his colourful shirts became the stuff of legend. He spoke openly about his struggles with alcoholism and dyslexia, and about being given a ‘second chance at life’ at 52 when he finally got sober. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.