Ok, he was not really Irish but in the true Irish tradition of claiming association to just about anything that is good we Irish are claiming the Saint as our own. We do have some grounds for this assertion – bear with me. Whitefriar Street Church in Dublin is the unlikely resting place for the relics of Saint Valentine. That’s right! While desperate men the world over rush to their nearest Garage fore-court to buy half-battered bunches of red roses in the hope that it will get them out of jail, the knowledge that there is an Irish connection to … Continue reading Saint Valentine Was Irish!
‘Hurry today love, there’s a lot that needs to get done. We have to catch the early bus into Bray to pick up the turkey!’ My mother spoke fast and very excitedly as she handed me the empty milk pail. It was early in the morning on Christmas Eve. I put on my wool coat and hat, grabbed the milk pail and ran out the door. I was about twelve years old. Running across the fields to the Massey Farm, I could see the small footprints I made in the frosty morning grass, and I could feel the hard ground … Continue reading Memories of an Irish Christmas by Marie O’Byrne
There was laughter in the car. The vehicle sped up the main road from Dublin to Belfast. And there was laughter in the car. They were on a mission. Pat and Mick. Yes, Pat and Mick, even though it sounds like the start of a thousand crude music-hall jokes. They had an appointment in Belfast. Pat was the literary dreamer from the far West of Ireland. Mick was third-generation English-born Irish, catapulted back from the land of his birth to the land of his worthless grandfather. Unlike many using the road, Pat and Mick were well educated, the one young … Continue reading Terror 1974 – a story by Michael Collins
The morning air had a quality only found on an island: cool yet warmed by the rising sun and the rocks still giving off yesterday’s heat. The three men tramped up the gravel track, the slope steeper as they neared the western end of the island. The sun was diagonally behind them, low enough to pick out in detail every feature of this rough and ready place. To the left the light was reflected in a sparkle from the surrounding seas. Ahead the cliffs rose to breast the Atlantic. To the right the bulk of the island swelled steeply upwards … Continue reading ‘The Outsider’ – An Irish Story by Michael Collins