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
“Tell Eimear what you did today.” There begins a slow review of the morning’s events interrupted by anything that distracts him (which is everything). There is Lala nose-diving off the chair, a quick play with new the train set, a run to the window to see if any birds are pecking at the fat-ball they … Continue reading How to Live Twice
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
Every time I phone her, she is peeling onions. I know this because she says, I’m peeling onions, and the tone of her voice is far from joyful. I ask her what she’s making, and she says, I don’t know yet, but everything starts with an onion. And I say, that’s a good line, it … Continue reading The World is Just a Great Big Onion
‘Hello, how are you?’ And then she called me by my name. This was a few weeks ago, a night when the temperature had dropped precipitously, providing perfect conditions for the snow that would lie thick during the week. It was Monday and I had nipped out on foot to Meadowbank Shopping centre, a ten-minute … Continue reading IRL
When children do it, it is said to be normal; their imaginary friends are thought of as the captivating make-believe workings of a lively mind. When grown-ups do it, and are either silly or plucky enough to tell anyone, they are in danger of being looked at askew (at best) or being told to immediately … Continue reading Imaginary Friends
(It’s a long read today. I’m out walking the city of Edinburgh with my nephew and you’re more than welcome to tag along.) We tramped about the city in the rain in search of hot chocolate. Rule number one (for one needs to establish rules at the outset when spending time with a thirteen-year-old boy, … Continue reading Edinburgh City Walk
My Edinburgh Press 