I didn’t attend last weekend’s WellFest at Dublin’s Royal Hospital Kilmainham (RHK), or not officially anyway. I did, however, enter the spirit of the occasion, and soon afterwards exited it, because the route is part of my regular Saturday morning run.
In the minute or two it took to pass through the RHK, I was struck by what seemed to be the overwhelmingly female attendance at an event billed as “Europe’s largest health, fitness and wellness festival”.
Also obvious was the surprising level of noise and excitement that can be generated by mass-participation yoga, pilates and squat jumps. It sounded like a football match, although I don’t think anyone was keeping score.
Exiting the gate at Bully’s Acre, the ancient cemetery at the RHK’s western end, I then found myself wondering about the different meanings of the word “well”.
There’s the adverb, of course, as in “I’m well”: now falling out of fashion thanks to the (adjectivally abusive) Americanism “I’m good”. There’s also the related Irish form of address: an implied question about your health, even when the word is used alone.
