Yesterday evening, for the 2nd time this week I attended the theatre. For my delectation on this occasion, was ‘Fast Forward’ by Firedoor Theatre. Written by Jason Coburn – who wrote last year’s ‘The Lover’s Guide to Losing your Mind’ – this play was inspired by the ideas of the Firedoor Theatre Devising Group. Continue reading ‘Fast Forward’
The bank holiday weekend was the business. Continue reading Home for the holidays
‘Aren’t you in Limerick though?’
Actually I wasn’t. While it is certainly true that I had been contemplating a trip home on Friday to cast a 2nd vote in the abortion referendum, I had ultimately decided that I would not do this. My respect for democracy and terror of ending up in the slammer for the crime of voting twice was too great. I had transferred my voting registration from Limerick to Dublin when I move back to Ireland after fifteen years in the Netherlands. Yet somehow a voting card had been sent to both places. Continue reading Ireland says YES. Notes from the Castle
On this date three years ago I was home for a holiday in Ireland. I had come #HomeToVote in the same sex marriage referendum. I sprung from my bed early that Saturday morning with a feeling of trepidation. Living in the Netherlands I had been spared the toxic horror of the six month, public trial that the LGBT community had been subjected to during the campaign. Having arrived home a couple of days before the vote, I had managed to haul my bones around Limerick for a lunchtime leafleting campaign; and an evening door to door campaign. There had been a tension in the air, but nonetheless an air of cautious optimism. An unverifiable inkling that the country might be about to improve. Continue reading The necessity of ‘Yes’
After a three month sabbatical, I have decided that it is time that I remount my trusty steed and start driving once more. While I understand that, after my abject failure at my last test would indicate that the wisest course of action would have been to continue my classes on schedule. Regular practice is the means by which people obtain their driver’s licences. Continue reading Back on the saddle again
Like the wailing from the lost souls in hell, my alarm clock started ringing at 6.30am. For most daytime dwelling, commuter folk – particularly those with offspring – this is a normal time to start the day. Not for my good self. I have my morning routine, refined to a precision that would make an Olympian proud. A simple matter of misplacing my keys for thirty seconds can mean the difference between catching, or missing my bus to the grim, industrial wastelands of North County Dublin. Continue reading The wastelands on a snowy winter’s morning
I felt slightly soiled after reading this tawdry tale of opportunism and malice; but for those of you outside Ireland (or those of you without an affinity for ‘human interest’ stories – what the kids these days called ‘clickbait’) then you might not yet have heard this sordid story. Continue reading #Bloggergate: The White Moose edition. A deeply grubby tale.
The Pavillion Theatre in Dun Laoghaire was my destination last night, to see ‘Forgotten’ – the one-man show written by and starring Pat Kinevane. Through the media of Japanese kabuki theatre and Irish storytelling. Kinevane tells the interlinked tales of four geriatrics living in care homes (or ‘assisted living facilities’ as they are so euphemistically described by Americans) in Ireland.
Continue reading Theatre times: ‘Forgotten’ by Pat Kinevane
Yesterday evening I went to clown class. It is part of an ongoing series of clowning workshops that have taken place with the theatre group, but the first one I could attend. Continue reading Murphy, the red-nosed clown.
I was a child when the Kerry Babies case was the biggest news story in the country. I can remember it being splashed all over the news, and can recall the bare bones of the story. I can remember the picture of Joanne Hayes on the front page of every newspaper, every day for what seems like months, during the Tribunal of Inquiry into the original case. I can remember my father describing it is as a horror film. Continue reading The Dark Tale of the Kerry Babies