This year as part of its excellent Spring into Heritage programme Dun Laoghaire Rathdown Council has once again opened to the public, on certain days, some of the historic buildings they own/manage. By a country mile the smallest of these, at 6M by 3.6M approximately, is The Oratory on Dun Laoghaire’s Convent Road.
Recently my part-time job has taken me up to and back down from a spot just outside Drogheda more times than a lift in a high-rise office block yo-yo’s between floors on a busy day. By the by, in case you don’t know, Drogheda is a port town situated roughly fifty-five kilometres north of Dublin.
I don’t lead a multihypenated fast-laned life. That’s fine as life in the slow lane suits me well. However when life slows to a pace that would, in comparison, make a snail’s progress look like a Usain Bolt sprint, that’s not so good.
In early January, with just a little over a week to go to my book club’s first meeting of 2016, I started reading the chosen book: David Mitchell’s The Bone Clocks. Continue reading
In the multi chandeliered ballroom of intentions and resolutions the lights only burn with gem like brilliance when intentions and resolutions are actually realised. Thus my chandelier glows with the merest ghostly glimmer because I have crossed off ridiculously few items from the list of things, I drew up a few years ago, that I wished to do in the coming decade.
I am back slightly later than I said I would be. Mea culpa!
The Tuesday before last, the 14th July, was the French National Day: La Jour de Bastille. Its celebration is many degrees different from St Patrick’s Day. Whereas our national day is: party central, a riot of all things green, and, for some, an excuse for a monumental piss-up; Bastille Day is, in contrast, celebrated in a more sombre way, the highlight being a carefully curated set piece military parade down the Champ Elysees.