..because the thoughts that fall, kicking and screaming from my head need a safe place to land..
Yes you guessed it. Another story from Ireland - because frankly, where else could this stuff go down? So it was a Saturday night and we were off to Ballygobackwards to see a really great local band. There was me, Titselina Bumsqueak and my cousin, Saoirse* O’Milk all glammed, glittered and nearly scuttered with the … Continue reading The Gig, the Jig and Stealing a Hearse
Titselina Bumsqueak, Fat Sharon and I used to haunt The Empire in Leicester Square on Friday nights. It was a sacred tradition, a no boyfriends invited, girls night out. It was the 80’s, Pina Coladas, enough make up to paint a bridge, shoulder pads and heels so high you needed oxygen to walk in them! … Continue reading Chips, Coppers and High Heeled Croppers
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 