My thanks to him and to my wife Monica for her zealous use of the black marker! Thursday, October 24, 2013. Did you enjoy that rubbish? Asked my wife, the next morning. Not her sort of film.

A selection of verse for family occasions from down the years. Saturday, February 13, 2010. Your days are busy with domestic drudgery,. But dear, you see it through without begrudgery,. Although your dreams are very often thwarted. With all the jobs that pile up constantly. The answer I have come to, somewhat cheesily,. I wish I had your equanimity.

The History of the Republic of Ireland Football team. Saturday, October 13, 2012. Dear, oh dear, that was humiliating. And Őzil bossed us,. Made us feel we were imposters. And the mauling dished out cost us dear, oh dear. Jesus Christ, now that was an embarrassment. As through our ranks they effortlessly sliced. They were standing round and joking,. Some were drinking schnapps and smoking. And we ended up invoking Jesus Christ. A mauling was what the Germans gave us.

A blog about Irish Lighthouses past and present and other selected maritime beacons and buoys of interest. Thursday, November 2, 2017. I was actually heading for Lettermullan at the time when I crossed the first of several bridges that cross the archipelago. Wednesday, October 25, 2017.

Friday, December 3, 2010. The woman who heard too much. The woman who heard too much. She woke suddenly in the dead of night,. Terrified by the clamour outside. Tearing back the velvet curtains,. She recoiled at the sound of giant snowflakes. Crashing to the ground like cluster bombs. On the far horizon,. Below the steel grey bank of bulbous cloud,. A thin lemon slice of a moon. Screeched around its rusty track.

A collection of satirical writings on the burning issues of the day. Many of these were read out on the Creedon Show when John was kind enough to feature my work. Thursday, September 5, 2013. The Ballad of John Waters a True Irish Martyr. Oh, Caitlín Ní Uallacháin, your sons have been martyred,. Their lives cruelly taken or cynically bartered. Your tears fill the Foyle, the. With stories that chill righteous minds to the marrow. To a gloomy, voluminou.

A collection of my poems that vaguely fall into the heading of Sci Fi. Thursday, April 14, 2011. Yes, there may be planets somewhere. In the coldest, furthest outposts. That we have not explored fully. And yes, it is a possibility. That there might be bacteria hiding. In among a thousand others. On a crater floor not scanned yet. But generally there is consensus,.

Our life in the First Division after our massive fall from grace. All views expressed are purely personal and may not coincide with the official club view! Tuesday, March 8, 2011. Can give the First Division fan some solace. By asking if the Minister for Sport. Might lend the aforementioned fan support. By abolishing, with suitable propriety,. The current two-tier system in society. Joan Burton and the rest of the shebang.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007. My morning, my noon and my night,. You stole in my chamber and set my heart free,. And put all my demons to flight. You raise up my spirits when dark clouds approach,. You warn the wild animals not to encroach,. And fire me with strength from the sun. I think of you only when women flock round,. I dream of your sweet-smelling hair,. My love for you still is so pure and profound,. World Cup 2006 Day One.

A series of light verse written by the pool on various Summer holidays. Sunday, September 13, 2009. A couple of pints and I needed to go. My bladder was straining and heaving and so. I made my excuses and rose from the table. And dashed off as quick as my fat legs were able. Beautifully painted in coats of matt vinyl. I had thirty seconds of blesséd relief.