In this place there is no bedtime and no set time to rise, both are done in keeping with one’s mood, whim, energies. In this place there is always energy. This place has loose joints, vitality, a spring in its step. Here, skin is smooth, wrinkles are fine tracings of smile lines, worries are pushed … Continue reading Summer at Home
A trip in the name of love. Booked on Valentine’s Day with the core purpose of visiting the family of the man I loved. Planted halfway through the trip, a wedding, a public statement of committing to love for life. It will be all joys and smiles and happiness. It will be warm and generous … Continue reading One About Love
“This buying a house business, it’s a total leap of faith, a dive into the unknown. In ten years, it could all crumble. Not literally – at least I hope not – mind you, there is the scandal of the homes in Donegal built from defective bricks, mica bricks that explode after a few years, … Continue reading Into The Unknown
“I think people are uncomfortable, so they say nothing,” she told me, “like people no longer saying his name.” Had that been the case with my husband, Ken, and with my dad, Barry, had my friends and family not been able to remember either anniversary landing on these days, speak either’s name, say something they … Continue reading We Should Speak of the Dead
I’m still in Portrush. Gales and more gales blow through, one trailing the other, bowling balls careening down a polished rink, on they roll, another, another, another. The wind abates for a day or two, then I’ll be lying in my upstairs bedroom at night and hear it gather speed, listen to it rise, rip, … Continue reading Letting Go
There ought to be aversion therapy for tears; a programme targeted at those people who squirm when faced with someone else’s crying. If controlled exposure to spiders for people with arachnophobia is a proven means of slowly dissolving their fear of eight legs, then surely the same should work for people who are mortified by … Continue reading Crying Over You
What difference would it have made to Tarry Flynn had he got himself onto a dating app? That is the question I keep turning over in my mind. Tarry is the main character of the eponymously titled Patrick Kavanagh novel that I am re-reading after twenty-five years. Published in 1948, it was banned for fourteen … Continue reading Meet Me at the Crossroads
I had never heard the phrase before and then (how does this happen?) I came across it again within twenty-four hours. ‘Happiness writes white,’ he said. ‘When I am content, I have no inspiration. Ease causes the muse to fly.’ I didn’t want to believe it, that one needs to be tortured in order to … Continue reading Happiness Writes White
Do you ever, like me, fall into the habit of being a bit of a moaner? Harping on about the things than annoy you, what you don’t like, things that could be better? I’m not necessarily complaining, but I’m defining myself by what doesn’t float my boat rather than what I love. It’s not a … Continue reading I Love…
Austerity: it was the word of the last decade, wasn’t it? Carried over from the decade before, from the infamous crash of 2007 when we (or someone on our behalf) over-stretched and over-spent until under we went. And after that, I only ever thought of the word ‘austerity’ in terms of fiscal policy; I associated … Continue reading An Austerity of Closeness
My Edinburgh Press 