He’s carrying a small backpack that is far from full, hardly looks as though it holds enough for an overnight stay. For a moment, I wonder if he’s a runaway. He looks and sounds too calm for a runaway (as if I’d know). ‘I’m going to see my grandparents,’ he volunteers, mind-reading. I am to … Continue reading Companion
The conductor, a small, blonde, square woman in her thirties, comes to our carriage last. She has checked all the tickets and has plenty of time to chat. I, invisible to the three boys sharing my carriage, am apparently invisible to her too. She does not look near me. Twice she tells them the time … Continue reading Off The Rails (II)
He seemed to be from a bygone era. The Connemara accent might have unfairly tipped me towards thinking that way, but his unflashy practicality added further to the impression. He had cycled from Dublin’s north side, locked his bike to some railings, rang the doorbell, then ceremoniously walked me into Harcourt Street. He supervised my … Continue reading Goodnight, John-Boy
I decided to forget I was the one rushing to catch the plane and instead treat my dash as one long scene from a film. I was the protagonist, I had my willing driver, and this was going to play out to an ending I hoped for but wasn’t certain of. There are no certainties … Continue reading Cutting It Fine
To disagree with someone over the weather is one of the most blatant acts of hostility you can commit. Kate Fox agrees with me. In her book, Watching the English, she says, “It would be very rude to respond to ‘Ooh, isn’t it cold?’ with ‘No, actually, it’s quite mild.’” I maintain that to agree upon the … Continue reading Another Way of Seeing Things
I knew when he set the copy of Good Housekeeping magazine to one side that he had been waiting for me. Not me specifically, but a version of me; someone on their own who would speak and not shrug; someone who would agree with him that it was a day for indoors; someone who thought … Continue reading Encounter
There’s something about staring out to sea that slows one’s breathing, and no matter how rough the sea is, the mind calms, ideas stir, if you happen to be with someone, easy conversation flows. I was sitting on a bench yesterday, looking out to sea, friend beside me, take away coffees, scones in brown paper … Continue reading If I Knew Then
“Once I feel myself observed by the lens, everything changes.” Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida. I’m headed for McDonald Road Library to pick up Camera Lucida. Although I can barely remember ordering it, I must have, as they have emailed to tell me it’s ready for collection. I reckon it was a year and a half ago (more?) that … Continue reading Coffee with Roland Barthes
We use the expression in Ireland, “giving out” – I’m not sure how far it travels. It can mean to tell someone off, to complain, fault-find, or to indulge enthusiastically in expressing one’s dissatisfaction with all and sundry. I have a good friend upon whom I rely for our weekly telephone dose of mutual giving … Continue reading Giving Out
I am in the Post Office sending parcels, there are two hatches but she says – go to go his, I am sorting something, and as he serves me she speaks sharply to him, saying that he has labelled these boxes incorrectly and has placed a bag where she is bound to trip over it, … Continue reading While There Is Still Time
My Edinburgh Press 