Between. Not here, not there, not anywhere. That’s what I feel like when I travel, especially when I travel alone, which is how it is mostly these days. In transit I am someone else; I am subtly different. I am an extension of my bags, a parcel of possibility. The responsibility for getting ‘there’ is outside … Continue reading Between
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
Games are easily mastered with only three years of life experience in your bones. Nothing about the world has made you cynical, nothing or no one makes you feel foolish. A game is whatever you think of, and whatever you think of is endlessly fascinating, hilarious, wonderful. The almost three-year-old had found the bouncy egg, … Continue reading The Game of Life
“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
Five years I’ve lived here, and this is my first visit to the Mansfield Traquair Centre. The former Catholic Apostolic Church closed its doors to a dwindling congregation when the last priest died in 1958. After that, the building had other short-lived reinventions, but its decrepitude had begun. A slow decay of fading and peeling, … Continue reading Mrs. Traquair
I didn’t know burial grounds were so full of life. Cemeteries filled with crumbling stones dating back one hundred, two hundred years, hidden and forgotten places known only by lonely dog walkers, head-dwellers, and retirees, places like Warriston Cemetery where the dead sleep while new growth teems with life. My friend took me there earlier … Continue reading Warriston Cemetery
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)
I am alone in the carriage when the train pulls out of Derry. I take a seat on the left by a window, the side that will skirt the water, give me the best views along this stunning section of line. As the train gains speed along the Foyle estuary three boys tumble into the … Continue reading Off The Rails (I)
“Alexander Rostov, could it be that you have become settled in your ways?” This is the rhetorical question the protagonist of the novel A Gentleman in Moscow (by Amor Towles) asks himself. Thereafter the narrator speaks, noting how younger people are rarely set in their ways: “At the age of twenty-two, Count Alexander Rostov could … Continue reading Set In Your Ways
“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
My Edinburgh Press 