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February 3, 2015

First published on Where's Grandad, April 2012

 

It was 1994, and our country’s hopes were as high as our waistbands.

 

We were pre gap year culture, pre Britney, pre duck-face profile photos. Miley Byrne was rearing a nation, Dustin the Turkey was landing number one hits,...

February 3, 2015

First published on Where's Grandad, June 2012

 

There was a boy, once. I was six and so was he. We were in First Class together, back in the days when First Class meant making your Holy Communion. With that massive ecclesiastical millstone around our necks, he’d be sent...

February 3, 2015

Written November 2011

 

 

I’m much better on page than in person. I hate phone calls. I hate meetings. I love emails, tweets and texts. I don’t love letters, because writing anything by hand makes these digital digits feel like they’ve spent an entire victory parade attac...

February 3, 2015

If you’re making a go of a career in the creative arts, common sense would suggest that you’ve got to be pretty sure of yourself. Feedback is important, obviously, because we all like to be told we’re doing the right thing, but feedback will only go as far as to reinfo...

February 3, 2015

Written November 2011

 

The thing is, when you change location in the middle of a recession, people automatically believe it’s for economic reasons. That starvation, or disgruntled creditors, or creditors disgruntled by starvation chased me out of Cork. That coming back...

February 3, 2015

Written August 2009

 

As it’s Builders’ Holidays in Ireland at the moment (a nationally-recognised breather for those in the construction industry; that should give you some clue as to how ingrained in the Irish psyche is the practise of throwing together the odd stone w...

February 3, 2015

Written March 2009

 

Cute means smart, and smart means irreverent, along with saucy, which does not mean sexy, nor does foxy, which means ginger. Desperate does not mean desperate, but rather emphasises any word it precedes, as does awful, which does not mean terrible, w...

February 3, 2015

Written March 2009

 

I don't know if naming your house something equally personal and ludicrous is an Irish hobby, or if it's one practised in many cultures; certainly there seems to be some sort of pandemic writhing its way through our provinces. I wrote a quotation yes...

February 3, 2015

Written February 2009

 

 

There was a tradesman supposed to turn up to give one of my colleagues a hand yesterday, but by three in the afternoon there was still less sign of him than there is of spaghetti sauce on the Turin Shroud.

 

‘He didn't phone?’ asked Mother Hen, our...

February 3, 2015

Written February 2009

 

I had to phone the electrician yesterday to report a problem with some new lighting he'd rigged.

 

‘I'll check that out for you,’ he promised. ‘I'll be there in a minute.’

 

Now, I know what you're thinking. Ha. Feckin' tradesmen and their empty promi...

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