Gigi is an old MGM film, a musical that came out in the fifties. It’s all glamour, black tie and Parisian chic. It’s often shown on television around Christmas time. My favourite part of the film is the duet between a husband (Maurice Chevalier, singing in heavily accented English) and his wife of many years, in … Continue reading Ah Yes, I Remember It Well
Michael Viney has been writing a weekly column on nature and natural history for the Irish Times since 1977. Alongside his words the newspaper includes an illustration, a sketch in ink, also by him, matching whatever has beckoned to be written about; maybe the distinctive ecosystem of a dry stone wall or comparing the song … Continue reading Light Lingers Long
I was listening to a gardening programme on the radio at the weekend while driving back to Edinburgh along the East Lothian coast. It was the usual Sunday Q&A, this time broadcast from Northern Ireland where one woman, from the Ards Peninsula, asked why her foxgloves were eight feet tall this year. Most of the expert … Continue reading Flowers Appear On The Earth
Today, June 16th, is Bloomsday. It has become aday for Dublin to commemorate and celebrate the life of Irish writer, James Joyce - because this is the very date, in 1904, when the events of Joyce’s novel, Ulysses, unfold. From 8am on the 16thof June, through to the wee small hours of the next day, … Continue reading Meeting Ourselves
Teeming it was, when I opened the lid. A sight to behold. But I’m jumping ahead too quickly, I must tell you what came before. Months ago, E. dug the plot over. He laid a fleece down and weighted each corner with a large heavy stone; said it would suppress the tenacious - now invasive … Continue reading Worms
St. Patrick’s Day came early for me when I attended a Scottish-Irish poetry event during the week. One of the poets was a young Dubliner called Stephen James Smith. Without reference to paper or book, he delivered a long, lyrical, swiftly paced poem called, ‘Dublin You Are.’ He captured us. It was a love poem … Continue reading Ireland, My Ireland
I’m just back from a few days in Ireland, of the Northern variety. There was much talk of uncertainty. T. spoke about her father’s farm, the far fields of which run along the seam of the border. “There’s more talk of Brexit than there are cups of tea taken, and that’s saying something,” she told me. … Continue reading Brace Ourselves For Change
There is an expression in Scotland that might be unique to just here; at least I’ve not heard it anywhere else. It is the question, “where do you stay?” When I first moved across, it was never far from my ears as people welcomed me, then tried to place me. I interpreted it as an … Continue reading Home
I’m better. Pretty much. The fire in my head has been doused. T. told me to drink hot whiskey. I didn’t. Not because it wasn’t a good idea, I just forgot to uncork the bottle of Bush each evening. Y. suggested I gently tap below my eyes, from the bridge of my nose to my temples, tracing the … Continue reading Dream Angus
I’ve picked up a virus. I’ve not just brushed against it, but I’ve bagged it, brought it home, and moved it in. It has been a year, almost to the day, since I’ve felt like this. Maybe it’s to become a fixture – clear the decks for the February-flu. Everything in my brain is hazy. Like driving … Continue reading To Weep
