I met Clara on a wet Tuesday in October, the kind of Dublin day that makes everyone look like they are apologising for being outside. We had arranged to meet in Bewley’s…
I met Clara on a wet Tuesday in Dublin, which is to say I met her in weather that made everyone look like they had survived something. We were both sheltering under…
I met Niamh in a queue outside a small cinema in Rathmines, both of us pretending not to be freezing. She had forgotten her gloves, and I offered her one of mine…
I knew the kiss was a mistake before it happened. That is the awful thing about some mistakes: they announce themselves, quietly and clearly, and you still walk towards them as if…
I was forty-three when I decided I was finished with romance. I didn’t announce it dramatically. There was no throwing of rings into the Liffey or tearful speech in a pub. I…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside the Abbey Theatre, when the rain was coming down sideways and everyone at the bus stop looked personally betrayed by the sky. He offered…
I met Lina on a wet Tuesday evening outside Temple Bar, though neither of us was going in. I was sheltering under the shallow doorway of a closed souvenir shop, pretending to…
I had my whole life folded into one blue suitcase at Dublin Airport, and still I was mostly thinking about a half-empty carton of milk in the fridge. That’s the strange thing…
We met on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were grand with the rain while standing under the same useless awning. I had come from a late shift…
The last hug I remember as a man without a child happened in a corridor of the Rotunda Hospital, under lights too bright for three in the morning. My wife, Niamh, was…