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May 5, 2015

Hello buddies! It’s been rather a wonky and wonderful few weeks, doing all sorts of book-related waffling, going here and there and eventually back again, and reading the very kind reviews of various people WHO AREN’T EVEN RELATED TO ME. I think I’ve got a couple of we...

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...

February 2, 2015

Written February 2009

 

 

The most heated argument I ever had in a taxi was not on the arse of a disappointing Valentine's Day, or with a drunken friend howling hyperbole, or with an overcharging tit of a driver, or any of the usual stuff. It was Christmas 12 months back,...

February 2, 2015

Written January 2007

 

 

I was over at me mammy's last night, for the annual Twelve Candles festivities.

 

The Twelve Candles is an odd tradition, where we light twelve small, slim . . . well, candles, assign a name of a family member to each of them, wait till they extingu...

February 1, 2015

Written April 2009

 

Don't mind old age, nearby incinerators, or over-exposure to cattle doused in growth hormones: self-preservation from the soundtrack to living in the arse end of Ireland is what puts hairs in your ears.

 

Rural Irish pubs who smugly advertise Live Musi...

February 1, 2015

Written April 2009

 

No, no, no. The title of this post is NOT a mistake. I'm sure we could inject a little original thought into the 9th circle if we only . . . well, got the fuck out of it.

 

Balls visited the hometown the other day, and was immediately embroiled in goss...

February 1, 2015

Written May 2006

 

I read today in The Sunday Times that midwives reckon women in labour get too much pain relief.

 

I reckon that the midwives in question are sadistic, childless wagons.

 

I'll tell you one thing for free (because I don't get paid to blog): labour is horren...

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