When I returned to Ireland at the end of 2015, I bid farewell to my book collection. This was one of the most heartbreaking parts of leaving Amsterdam. It was a collection that had been lovingly built up over decades. Comprising of books purchased in Dublin late last century when I lived there – these had been transported at my employer’s expense when I moved to the Land Below the Sea at the turn of the century – right up to the moment of departure, There were hundreds of books involved. Continue reading The bookshelf of doom: ‘A place called Winter’
I was talking to someone over the holidays, who mentioned that he sometimes read my blog, and that he found it funny. While I kelp a straight face, on the inside I involuntarily preened. Tell me more. Continue reading A cultural Monday
‘So how was your weekend in Amsterdam?’ asked a colleague over a slice of brown toasted batch bread, in the staff canteen this morning. Continue reading Conversation at breakfast
Rarely do I discuss my evening commute – the journey where I return to civilisation, from the armpit of Ireland – the industrial suburbs of Dublin. Perhaps it is because my heart is lighter – the workday is over and I have an evening to spend, as I see fit. There’s no sense of looming doom at this time. My spirit is lighter. In the evening I look on my fellow passengers with more goodwill and less fear (speaking of which it’s worth noting that Bruiser and Beyoncé are never on the evening bus). Continue reading Gobnait and the Greek
Facebook is a cunning beast. The ‘On this day’ function in particular. The daily reminder of what you posted on a particular date, each year you have had an account, can throw up the most unsettling surprises. Continue reading Happy anniversary…
The hour of doom was 2pm. I was having another driving lesson.
Continue reading I’ll drive myself home, thank you.
My alarm clock started shrieking at midday. That contraption is capable of such hysteria. I staggered to the bathroom and blearily stared into the mirror. What a shocker. My face was smeared with cheap Dealz Halloween makeup. It was offset beautifully by my puffy, bloodshot eyes. How had this happened?
Continue reading The aftermath
So we had to be in the theatre by 6.30 to allow sufficient time to get into costume and vampire makeup, for kick-off at 8. Continue reading Theatre: Emote Murphy, emote
Since my return to my native land, I have been making valiant efforts to see places and things that had hitherto escaped my attention. I am being a tourist at home. While it is not always possible I endeavour to see something new on a weekly basis. The more I see, the more I understand that it will be impossible to see it all. There are so many beautiful places in this country. I realise that I am only scratching the surface. Never mind – I am enjoying the journey – there is no final destination. Continue reading Wicklow way
The Olympia Theatre on Dame Street is currently hosting a play called ‘Signatories’. A show, written by eight Irish authors, comprising eight separate segments – with seven of them focusing on the signatories of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic, and one on Nurse Elizabeth O’Farrell, who delivered the rebels’ surrender at the failed 1916 Easter Rising. Continue reading Theatre death-match: ‘Signatories’ versus ‘Eirebrushed’