‘It’d be a great little country if you could roof it’, is a phrase we have become accustomed to on our little island. Surrounded by stunning scenery, yet surrounded by weather that is unpredictable and moody like a teenager, the phrase is easy to comprehend. Yet, for me, this only adds to the charm, at times anyhow. With freedom granted last Monday to travel outside the county we reside in, we hightailed it home to South Kerry like scalded cats….
*NB Spoilers alert; Watch this wonderful film before reading, as it is a heck of a journey. Every now and then a story comes along that rattles me to the core. Not that I’m nosy, but my ears have always had the habit of picking up on a tale that I thought was from the ‘other’ category. Listening to Dave Fanning many moons ago, as I was want to do, of an evening, I heard of a new documentary following…
As I said when I introduced this blog, the whole point of writing is to help me refrain from imposing my opinion on those who were happy in life, without having my views inflicted on them. Fair enough. I was developing an unhealthy habit; getting vexed at the fact that sometimes people don’t see things the way I do. What is wrong with them?! With some introspection, I realised that my approach was not the way to go. Whilst I…
‘We got a kinder, gentler/Machine gun hand’ are the standout lyrics for me, from my favourite protest song; Neil Young’s Keep on Rockin in the Free World. Those who have socialised with me over the years will possibly recall me bounding joyfully up to the poor fella with the guitar, there for our entertainment, to have; ‘play Rockin the free world maaan’, hurled at him. A song that has always sent me into bold, anti-establishment rapture. Every song has a moment I…
”We have tested and tasted too much, lover-/Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.’. The opening phrase of one of my favourite Patrick Kavanagh poems. He may have been an auld crank if stories of him ring true, but man could he nail the human condition, and moreover the Irish condition. Advent sees Kavanagh at a critical juncture in his life. He is questioning how far he has come, and what direction he may go from here. He…
I always had a small head. Having always been small, I guess it was proportionate. In the nineties, as I was entering my teens, this tiny noggin was nearly always adorned with a big, red, Chicago Bulls hat. This served to dwarf my features even further. Such was the fever created by Michael Jordan & Co., I was more than willing to ignore this difficulty for the sake of fashion, not for the last time either. Jordan fever had swept…
”Ruairí!! ….Don’t kick the furniture”, is not a sentence that my fiancée expected to ever have to say in our home, but such is the fervour that Liverpool F.C bring out in me, it was a sentence that had to be said all the same. Today is my…
”Why do we have to study poetry anyway?” is probably the most frequently asked question in my English classroom, usually accompanied by a tone of exasperation. It is the question which has the tendency to set me off on a spirited defence of what, to me, is the purest and most engaging art-form. I do this generally ignoring the irony in trying to instil a personal appreciation of the power of poetry, whilst asking them to look past the fact…