Reader, I cried.
Cop yourself on, says I, it’s only a bloody a match and it’s only a quarter-final, we won nothing. Then I looked over at Martin and a fine big tear dropped out of his eye onto his cheek and I thought, yes, why not? Why not cry after that experience, that communion, that transportation. Continue reading “Cork v Tipperary Part 2 We kept the faith.”
I wrote the piece below in early February, on the day of the first match of the year.
This morning, three months later, we make our way to Thurles to do battle with our great old enemy in their lair. We’re not confident, how hard is that for a Cork person to say, but we’re not. This Tipp forward line is something else, and those Mahers…
Anyhow, now it’s May, not February. It’s warm, not cold. The sod is firm, not soft. And there’s a lot more at stake. It’s championship. There will be blood. Continue reading “Cork v. Tipperary Part 1 – We keep the faith.”
I’m a rook, like, and I mainly hang around Rory Gallagher Square in Cork. I pecks away around the square, getting the odd bits and pieces that people drop on the ground.
I’m what you call a polyglot. That means I speak a lot of languages. I mean a lot of languages. It comes easy to birds, us rooks especially. Continue reading “The Hipster and the Rory Gallagher Square Rook “
I wrote a poem. Well I think it’s a poem, I’m not sure. I don’t really knjow what a poem is. Anyway I wrote it on my way home from O’Bheal, the poetry night in The Long Valley. They were launching the book Looking at the Stars, edited by Kerrie O’ Brien for which the proceeds were going to helping the homeless.
In O’Bheal there is an exercise where you write a poem that contains some words that are provided. Continue reading “Montgomery Clift is Homeless”
I’m the Echo Boy on Patrick’s Street. No, not that one, I’m the one across the road, outside the old Examiner Offices. I’m the statue.
I didn’t know I was a statue for a long time, actually. I used to be over on Cook Street and one day I heard a woman tell her daughter what I was, so that’s how I found out. Continue reading “The Echo Boy”
It’s been dry, it’s been very dry in Cork City by the Lee, my hometown here in the deep south. [APPLAUSE]
Yes it’s been a very dry Autumn, and very still too for weeks now, hardly a puff of wind, which means that we have a spectacular Autumn array of colourful leaves on the trees, even though we’re coming into November and on past All Soul’s Day. Continue reading “Autumn Leaves”
All the old Cork City cinemas get together now and again, for a few jars in a quiet pub, and to reminisce about the good old days. Capital is in great form tonight – they’re making a retail centre where he lay derelict for years, and he’s proud of that.
Capital – Come here lads, what was the best fillum ye ever showed? I can go back to the forties, but still, I think for me it was Jaws in ’75. That was a great show, a big breakthrough for Spielberg, and I had queues all the way ‘round to Oliver Plunkett Street. The screeching of the girls when that shark came out of the water, you never heard the like of it. And the John Williams music when it was going to attack. Dadum, dadum, dadum. Great show. What about you, Savoy? Continue reading “The Old Cinemas go for a Pint”