“I knew it wasn't too important, but it made me sad anyway.” Holden Caulfield, character from J.D. Salinger’s, The Catcher in the Rye. I dressed and went across the road to a cafe that I sometimes visit on Sundays (only on Sundays). They keep the papers. I have a favourite spot, facing out onto the … Continue reading Snap Out Of It
There’s an Irish jig called, ‘I Buried My Wife and Danced On Her Grave’. Awful, isn't it? Lovely tune though. There’s another called, ‘Get Up Old Woman and Shake Yourself’, and then there’s, ‘When Sick is it Tea You Want?’ Tunes are normally played in sets of three; I’m thinking those three would be quite … Continue reading The Happy Mistake
“And how do you think you are going to cope when I cast you off to this island, alone?”That’s often the final question on Desert Island Discs, before the guest chooses his or her favourite song, one book, and a luxury item of their choice. (Did you know that Sue Lawley – as guest, not … Continue reading When I’m Alone
One of life’s biggest challenges is that of speaking up. I’m not talking about making a presentation at work, delivering a wedding speech or any of those other goose-bump inducing public-facing talks. I mean saying what needs to be said in the moment, within a small group, or maybe even one on one. In other … Continue reading Polite Conversation
“Your auntie loves a poem. Tell her the poem you learned this week at school.” On the other end of the phone, G. was being prompted by his father. Gorgeous child, I used to call him. To be fair, he’s not a child anymore; he’s a teenager (just), so I have to drop all that … Continue reading I Met A Child
I am of the generation where we ‘backed’ our books at the start of each new school year. Dog-eared and a bit tattered from use the year before (in fact, use over multiple years), a growing pile would be distributed by the teacher in September, leaning like the Tower of Pisa, in preparation for ten … Continue reading Change
I’m back in Ireland for a visit, on the windy north coast. Two years ago I was jettisoned back here, life interrupted, everything suspended after K. died. It was an unreal time, those early months. Your world contracts to the size of a snow globe, sometimes calm, but often shaken – those little white flecks making … Continue reading Those We Miss
Occasionally, I see angry, defiant, prickly attitudes masquerading as a form of feminism; rebelliousness without much consideration, that might just be an excuse for: ‘every man and woman for his or her self’. The feminism of, ‘Why should I make you a cup of tea, you, you…. man! Make it yourself.’ Somewhere within it, there is righteous … Continue reading Still A Woman
There are times writing, when I remember a story someone has told me because it fits whatever convoluted point I’m trying to make. Often I go right ahead and recount it – a stich here, some beading there, a nip, a tuck, a little glue and glitter. Occasionally I stop and think: this is not … Continue reading Tell Stories
‘The old dog for the long road.’ D. taught me that one when I was much younger, when I had more give in my knees. Back then I got the gist of it, though I can't say I fully grasped its depth of meaning. It is one of those sayings to which you nod when … Continue reading Be Still And Wait
