I’ll be running 50km for The Red Cross Ukrainian Crisis Appeal.
Pre-season training for post-COVID life.
Consider me in pre-season training for post-COVID life
Home, away, and attachments to place.
That contentment could be found by just being in a beloved place was news to me
Storm Barra
On Met Éireann’s maps, the offshore islands looked defenceless and wide open. Like ducks before an armada.
One morning’s walk.
I went for a walk this morning. Without my headphones.
Bliain ag fás; a year on Inis Meáin.
I’ve felt spring, smelled silence and sat faoi dhraíocht ag ceol na farraige
Uninhabited islands; the Great Blasket and South Inishkea.
Such places are truly special, giving us the chance to lay hands on a past we’ve only read of in books.
The best thing about Inis Meáin? That there’s nothing to do on Inis Meáin.
The island’s gift to the visitor is time and space to dream, think, notice and observe, to see the world a little differently.
At Swim-Four-Women; swimming from Inis Oírr to Inis Meáin in aid of RNLI
We’re swimming from Inis Oírr to Inis Meáin in aid of the RNLI and we’d really appreciate all the support going
The time I visited Bere Island
…and whilst I wouldn’t write that everything is perfect all the time on Bere Island (or any other island), for the few days I was there, it was indeed perfect.
What the club means to me…
There’s a sense of belonging when I attend a game, of knowing and being known, and though I’ve come and gone (and gone again) that feeling hasn’t faded.
Inisturk, and realities of island living
There was never a shortage of fine words and lip service but piers, ferries, electricity and bridges were far less forthcoming
With an ear to the ground and an eye on the sea…
I swear I felt spring, felt it somewhere in my soul. Felt it as one can only where life is lived at nature’s behest, with an ear to the ground and an eye to the sea.
The drochaimsir and my muse, the west Clare coast.
I was missing my muse, my inspiration. Yeats had Maude Gonne, it appears I have the west Clare coast.
And in the dark of night…
The city dweller might think this absoluteness of silence and darkness intimidating or boring, but I am transfixed.
Life in the other language
There are many joys to my life on the island – the scenery, the unfussiness of it all, my job, the sea – but perhaps my greatest joy is hearing Irish spoken and used every day.
Turn, lift, stack, foot.
This piece of flash fiction was selected for inclusion in Autumn Leaves, a broadsheet of poetry, flash fiction & song lyrics by Roscommon writers. Autumn Leaves is part of the Arts Office Literary Development Programme, funded by Roscommon County Council and the Arts Council of Ireland.
A facewash, an election and a year in America.
I was trying to see if all that I’d seen mattered, if it fitted into a bigger picture – particularly the one painted last week.
Trumpism and us.
Some week it’s been. I couldn’t spell Pennsylvania this time last week and now I’ve opinions on Maricopa County, Arizona. Lots of thoughts.
Lockdown. This time on an island.
Unlike last time, where grand gestures were the thing to be doing, this time it’ll be the small gestures that will haul our tired and weary asses through the next six weeks.
doireann.ie 