..because the thoughts that fall, kicking and screaming from my head need a safe place to land..
My youngest son, Thmellyarthe, was a very precocious reader. He was able to read first reading books at the age of three. I used to play with him as we’d be walking around the supermarket asking him to tell me when we were in aisle three,count tins of beans, find me the orange packet of … Continue reading The Coffee Table, The Ex and The Voice of Doom
You can always tell a Donegal chap by his parsimonious use of words. No, “you’ve got nice eyes”, “can I buy you a drink” or even that toe-curling old chestnut “do you come here often?”. Oh nooooo. The mating seasons too short for that Miss Manners how’s-yer-father in Donegal. Those young feller-me-lads are straight to … Continue reading In Which The Girls Ventured Forth…
Bitchin’ in the Kitchen 