The docks area is a pressure-valve for the booming city, in a way that was impossible in the 1960s. Development can go there which would otherwise wreck the centre. Fine: but remember the lesson of London, where the supposedly market-led (but in fact heavily subsidised) docklands development that kicked off in 1979 somehow managed to overlook culture in its drive for offices and apartments. The £80 million National Conference Centre planned down on the Liffey at North Wall Quay on old railway yards does not look much like culture. Nor does the controversial mega-development of very tall office and apartment buildings proposed for George's Quay opposite the increasingly beleagured Custom House, designed by the American architects SOM. True, the conference centre is designed by the celebrated and now elderly Irish emigre architect Kevin Roche, and will be something of a landmark. It may make a great venue for pop concerts, as does Norman Foster's rather cheaper "Armadillo" equivalent in Glasgow. But there's something about conference centres, whoever designs them. Something stultifying. They know they're not real cultural attractions, but business venues, and we all know it too.

Admittedly is it difficult to introduce arts buildings into the docklands mix. City centres are the traditional location for palaces of culture, and in Dublin's centre the National Gallery will soon build its extension by the Anglo-Scottish architects Benson and Forsyth. Those wanting a sneak preview of what to expect should take themselves to Edinburgh, where the new Museum of Scotland on Chambers Street, from the same hand, gives you a fair idea of their monumental approach. By an eery imperial coincidence, Benson and Forsyth are extending a building originally by the same hand in both Edinburgh and Dublin, namely the Victorian architect-engineer Captain Francis Fowke - who is also responsible for a large chunk of London's South Kensington museums quarter. It's perhaps unfortunate that the original plans to break the National Gallery extension through onto Clare Street, so giving the gallery an important presence on the Trinity College side, had to be toned down in order to preserve a previously unregarded house on the site. But at least the Gallery will have an entrance there, and will be better plugged into the city than it presently is in its corner of Merrion Square.

So the development of Dublin continues, ever faster. One almost forgets the fine restoration projects completed in the past few years, many for cultural purposes - Dublin Castle, the 18th century Collin's Barracks (now the National Museum of Ireland) the 17th century Royal Hospital at Kilmainham (now the Irish Museum of Modern Art), and Dr. Steevens Hospital, cleared of its years of clutter. These are amazing achievements by any standard. But now attention shifts to the opportunities offered by the North Quays, by Smithfield, by the canal basins, even and importantly by the housing estates to the north of the city. It is almost too much to take in: which means that one fears it is all being done too quickly.

As I leave, the airport is in Saturday morning turmoil. It is seething. "There used to be just six flights a day here," reflects my cab driver as we sit in the customary traffic jam on the way out. The airport, which already resembles an out-of-town shopping centre, is being almost doubled in size. The original late 1930s terminal by Desmond Fitzgerald and his Office of Public Works team - one of the great airport buildings of the world - is now an unnoticed adjunct to the frenzied activity around it. All this spells out the success of the Celtic Tiger economy. But I can't help reflecting that all booms turn to bust sooner or later. And part of me can't help thinking: maybe this wonderful city could do with a breathing-space.