Day 35: I ran 17 kilometres and now my end is definitely nigh

I know now is not the time to be flippant about death so please read the above caption with the required level of concern. I THINK I AM DYING. I have had to eat so much sugar just to keep my poor heart in motion; I may be having a very modest, quietly unobtrusive, delicately… Continue reading Day 35: I ran 17 kilometres and now my end is definitely nigh

Day 34: Is George Floyd to 2020 what Greta Thunberg was to 2019 and, if so, is this a good thing?

I hate that I'm this person and yet, I can't help thinking it. I cannot help but be irked by the tsunami of influencers and everyday people essentially blackwashing their platforms in the aftermath of George Floyd's. Except, just as Greta Thunberg was not the inaugural climate activist, George Floyd was not the first person… Continue reading Day 34: Is George Floyd to 2020 what Greta Thunberg was to 2019 and, if so, is this a good thing?

Day 33: I am one convulsing nostril

It is 21:58 and all around me I am surrounded by chaos. Boxes that contain my life, my loves, my infinite passion for vintage dresses and bombastic patterns, trinkets that sit somewhere between sacred relics and culturally appropriated junk and the thousands of books and journals I am perpetually on the verge of starting, finishing,… Continue reading Day 33: I am one convulsing nostril

Day 32: Mea Culpa

I will keep this short because, if you have been following these, you will know I've been up-the-walls busy simply by the fact you haven't heard from me. I just want to apologise. My last piece was ambiguous and therefore truly hurtful to some family members. I wrote what I thought was a dry caricature… Continue reading Day 32: Mea Culpa

Day 31: The abominable facemask

I'm trying to write and my sisters are intent on derailing my creativity with intense chats about our next choreographed lip-sync video. If you haven't yet experienced the joy of our first masterpiece, here you go. I have been called whore, boring, shit craic, rude, and selfish in the space of three minutes. All for… Continue reading Day 31: The abominable facemask

Day 30: A useless short story, a one-liner rejection and a boulevard of broken dreams.

I went to enter a short story competition yesterday because I am going to be a writer and put myself out there until one day I too have a novel adapted to a TV show and my portrayal of sex is the main topic on Joe Duffy. It is a personal goal of mine to… Continue reading Day 30: A useless short story, a one-liner rejection and a boulevard of broken dreams.

Day 29: Mamma Mia, here I frigging go again

Approximately two weeks into our lockdown - thus now almost 756,000 million years ago - middle sister introduced us to TikTok. By 'us', I mean myself and my parents because every other family member - including our cats - was aware of this phenomenon and I am now within their generational bandwidth in terms of… Continue reading Day 29: Mamma Mia, here I frigging go again

Day 28: Me and Trump vs the Lamestream Media

I get most of my news from David O'Doherty's Isolating podcast and the snippets of Joe Duffy and Sean O'Rourke I catch as I potter making coffee and elaborate quarantine breakfasts. It is perhaps, not the best of cocktails: a smattering of wildlife trivia (the Irish term for ladybird literally translates to 'little cow'), fun… Continue reading Day 28: Me and Trump vs the Lamestream Media

Day 27: Never underestimate the magic of a mini brioche

I don't know why I continue to willfully underestimate the power of a mini brioche roll to fix all manner of physical, emotional, or imagined ills. I mean, hangover = gone. Inexplicable grief caused by a global pandemic = vanquished in a bite. Randiness = butter will suffice. They are heaven shaped into pudgy faux-baguettes… Continue reading Day 27: Never underestimate the magic of a mini brioche

Day 26: Am I still being bootycalled?

It's the question that's been on everyone's mind since diary entry #3 when a mysterious stranger decided to light up my phone one brisk and impossibly early Saturday morning. Now, after weeks of suspense and as you all mourn the death of Normal People and find yourselves endlessly trawling the Internet for another impossible love… Continue reading Day 26: Am I still being bootycalled?