I became a mother in my twenties, when everything was new and I had all the right answers. I would feed my kids only organic food, let them express their emotions and their creativity, keep them away from all harm and negativity. I certainly did my best, but being the perfect mother turns out to be an impossible task. Too late I read . . .
One small thing
I was once told (in a semi naked state in the steam room in Splashworld) that unless your family had been around for at least 400 years you couldn’t possible be called a Waterfordian. After 30 years I am still here and probably will be until I’m carried out in a box, (or in my case, in a mushroom suit, but that’s a story for another . . .
Creativity, imagination and happiness.
It was 2010, I was a bit tired and depressed about the world. The every day news seemed to reduce everything to the fact that human nature was ugly and hateful. Politics was hopeless too, having worked for social progress all my life, change seemed to happen at a snail's pace. Suicide was on the increase, many young people had nothing to . . .
Inis Turk
Postscript by Seamus Heaney And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is . . .
Out west
We head out west where the roads are small and everything takes time. We arrive in the rain of course and the van winds across the mountains of Connemara as we aim for Killary Harbour. The family are gathering with a small Swedish Grandnephew as the centre of it all. He is a smiling bundle of energy with a thing for household and domestic . . .
On the road
Here comes the time of the year for going on the road and visiting friends out west along the Wild Atlantic Way . This time we will amble from Killary Harbour in County Mayo down to to the Dingle Peninsula in County Kerry. From east to west, north to south and back again. We are also getting ready for the annual trip to France . . .
Our eyes have a field day
It is summer. Maybe it rains a bit too much, maybe it's been too cold to swim recently. But the flowering in the wild garden goes on regardless. "Weeds" as they are sometimes called, wrap themselves around bushes and bulbs. The whole exuberant over the top lushness of it will be short lived. Light catches petals and pinks dazzle in a . . .
Listen to your own soul
It's hard to stay on track with what's authentic and enriching for the soul. At times everything gets out of whack. Since our economic crash we have lived with the challenges of stagnation and lack of opportunity. We dealt with it all as best we could. But now? Enough already. Time for new dawns and gaudy . . .
High up in the Shard
I've looked up at it before and my image of the Shard taken from the river was part of the London Open House Exhibition in 2014. It has been love from a distance. I don't like heights. But Himself was really up for it, and as I survived the Freedom Tower earlier in the year, I decided to join in. I shuddered a little when I stepped . . .
The Sea Horse
"As a conscious act, we document our inner and outer selves, meticulously curating the facets of our existence, both the painful and the triumphant, that we wish to leave behind in the world. And from these archives we hope that others can learn – to look inside themselves, to reconsider their stereotypes of those around them, to remind . . .
