I am a history buff. Have been for years. I’m not exactly sure how it’s started, though I suspect a particular European history teacher in Exeter had a hand in it, making it interesting and all that (how dare he?) by somehow finding the ridiculous and the sublime in every era, every conflict, every revolution we…
I haven’t been writing again and it’s becoming an uncomfortable itch. I want to write. The words are often there, but making myself actually make time for it is hard. It’s not quite as brainless as crashing out on the couch with a mindless novel on my Kindle app. But the other weekend we were in…
This is what I hope to be my final essay for the time being on this topic, as I try to exorcise my thoughts through writing so that I can try and move on to writing about other subjects. There was the goodbye, and then there was the fractured, dissonant event of death itself and…
This morning was one of those not quite completely miserable but still utterly unpleasant Irish mornings. The temperatures were warm but the drizzle drenched everything without actually forming much in the way of rain drops. Struggling with a rain cover for the stroller, while standing in the rain, is one of those things that can…
I have managed to keep fairly quiet about recent events in America on my Facebook and elsewhere, other than commenting on some posts by other people, but not because I don’t have anything to say. In fact the problem is the opposite – I have too much to say. Too much to feel. Too much…
The Feathered Rose 