Barbara Sheehan, late of Belfast 8: my childhood best friend

We were both bossy, Barbara Sheehan and I. We made sure one of us was always elected leader of the many clubs we founded. We issued frequent orders to her little brother and my younger siblings, a surprising number of which they followed. We both liked long words (Barbara invented “irraphumpinating” which meant a mix

I don’t got milk

I have failed the online Irish test set by Buzzfeed. I can’t sing the anthem, I don’t speak Gaelic and, perhaps most damning of all, I don’t drink tea. It is the milk that puts me off. I find milk repulsive. In Ireland it is rare to be offered tea without it. My dislike of 

This week by the water

I am like a mother who can’t limit the number of darling baby pictures she will post on Facebook. I am as bad as the crazy cat lady who provides minute by minute updates on the lives of Squiffy and Bitters and Floss. I am a day lily bore. The spoils of my spending in

‘Thon Fella—What’s His Name?

Brendan “the Dark” Hughes, must be swiveling in the grave that has cradled him since 2008. The IRA man, a 1980s hunger striker, died peacefully in a hospital bed, after a life devoted to gunning down others in the name of Irish freedom. For many people in Northern Ireland he is a hero, but it

Seven Days of Bliss

This was a great week. I got to see my son and hold his baby girl. My daughter won a job interview with one of the world’s biggest and best known companies. I began to work on a project that will be all-consuming and completely fulfilling. In the garden, the rhododendron has flowered for the

Seeing things: Shocker for a Sunday morning

I opened the kitchen cabinet to be confronted by the image of John Major, one-time Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, looming in front of the cereal bowls.  I reeled in shock. I barely considered Mr Major when he was in power in the 1990s and certainly haven’t thought of him since. It was unnerving

Biggin’ It Up on Bourbon Street

In New Orleans on a Friday, Galatoire’s is THE place to go for lunch. The restaurant doesn’t take bookings and so those in the know hire a dissolute to stand in line for them from 6am. Only this way can they be sure to secure a table. Usually we have our own dissolute and so

Two middle aged women leaning against rails and sitting on walls

More pictures than anyone could possibly want of the Crone and the Cackler. We had a great time. Thanks to Italy for providing the backdrops.

The Mist of A Memory

We walked by the Land of Green Ginger and past The Blue Boy and The Star of the West. I have forgotten almost everything I learned at university in Hull but the names of the special street and the city’s old town pubs stay with me still.  The William Wilberforce, named for the Victorian anti-slavery

Perfect Dinner Companions

” We never run out of conversation,” said John and looked adoringly across the table at his wife. “We’ve lived long enough to have a lot of stories.” “And we’ve lived long enough to tell each of them a number of times” said Jackie and threw back her beautiful head with a laugh. John and