Meeting Michael Fassbender

I am a woman: do not fold, spindle or mutilate. I am a woman. I am in my forties. I have two teenage children. I am divorced. I like sex. There, I’ve said it. Why am I telling you this, dear reader? Well, I posted what I believed to be an amusing, tongue in cheek report of what it was like to meet Michael Fassbender. To give you context, you can click here, or just to say that given the furore about his penis in Shame I found myself literally without words when I met him. All I could think was ‘don’t mention the penis, don’t mention the penis.’ I felt as though I was stuck in that funny Faulty Towers episode when German tourists stay in the eponymously named hotel. Basil keeps on telling Polly ‘Don’t mention the war.’ Of course, Basil does it himself numerous times and ends up doing the goosestep ala The Monty Python school of funny walks. So as I looked at Mr Fassbender all I could think of was his penis. I didn’t mention it at the time, in fact I said very little to him at all. My quirky article went on to talk […]

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Raheengraney House – what next?

It has been such a long journey and with so many twists and turns that I scarcely know where to begin. It started with a kiss, it started with a Facebook update, It started with a mid life crisis (not mine, lol, I’m waiting to have mine later!), It started with a divorce… I’m actually not sure where it started and I am even less certain of where it will end, but one thing I know for sure, this year I’m fighting fit. This week I made a video. You can watch it here. http://youtu.be/tzKO6Nw_p0k Last year I also made a video. You can watch it here if you like too, although much of it is cannibalised into my second video. So what is my story and where do I begin? You know what they say – a good start is half the battle. So here goes! This is a story of the big house, the big divorce, the big lawyers, the big courts, the big banks, the big bankruptcy, the big recession and little ole me standing at the other end of the lane, scratching my head at the wonder of it all, at the injustice of it all, and […]

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Raheengraney House – an Historic Story from the Future (fiction)

It is the year of the Green Gods 3011 and I am named Seth. I am in my final year of Home Schooling: next year I will join my brothers on the Mars Satellite for a three year rotation. The rotations are getting longer as we run out of oxygen here on earth. The planting decrees came too late and only small bubbles of breathable gases are still found on earth, Ireland being one such bubble. As it our custom when we leave a planet, we must write a leave taking. My tutors have explained that each leave taking should be viewed as a final, standalone account. Just in case we have a final, final conflict, and yes the irony is not lost on me. People once wrote on parchment, then on paper and the printing press seemed to create a lasting legacy. But of course parchment can turn to dust and books can be burnt or lost in floods. Then people believed that what was written on the internet would live for ever, but this too turned out to be false. If you have no computers, there is no internet and data cannot remain suspended forever, and for many […]

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The Many Colours of Yellow

There are things that cannot be mended, cannot be fixed, cannot be found. We try all the time to find the reason, call the name, find the cure. But sometimes it just does not exist. And all the brown paper and glue cannot make it right again. We tumbled down that hill and our bruises are as real and yellow as canaries or sunflowers or daffodils. They are also the colour of chardonnay, the colour of perfume, the colour of a glass of Powers Gold Label. Canaries sing down the mines, sing in their cages. Daffs and sunflowers spread their pollen like poison, etching misty fingers in an indelible path. But bruises will fade, pass away, leaving only a trace on the skin. Jaundice will do its part too. And carrots, apparently. Even weak sunshine will leave its yellow shadow on some. Yellow used to be such a pretty colour in our youth, but as we age it has become the colour of urine When we are broken, we cannot dream any more. This can be called a state of yellow. The yellow belly of defeat. And how do we mend? This is also the colour of yellow. The bright […]

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