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.
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
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
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
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?
The photo of my dog is sadly unrelated to this post - I just really wanted to get your attention. Look, I know what you've all been thinking. Hol, it's great, we love your work, we live for your run-on sentences that are often ten lines long and usually don't seem to have any real… Continue reading Day 25: I thought it would be fun to list things
I've taken to writing down words I like in the margins of whatever notebook is closest to hand. I just came across a small pile of them in a now-defunct diary. They were stacked like a turmite hotel and read like this: Febrile. Spurious. Nadir. Purposive. Torrid. I will try to use them in a… Continue reading Day 24: The leg hair has returned and my vocabulary is improving
I am hungover. Two freely-poured aperol spritzes, 1.5 cans of Guinness (the remaining 0.5 woke me up with its RINGING judgement from the lofty heights of my bedside locker this morning) and I am a pale and anxious mess. I went to bed fully-clothed, having been Facetiming a friend in Australia and, when my battery… Continue reading Day 23: I should be ordering fifteen euro eggs and nursing a mimosa right now
I am either very, very tired or very, very energised. Those are my two states of being in quarantine. I either want to give hours to making intricate TikTok dance videos or else I'm lying down on my bedroom floor barely able to lift my arm to separate the tangle of the 3,000 piece jigsaw… Continue reading Day 22: Today is absolutely the last day of not getting dressed properly
I am bubbling over with things I want to tell you - I keep writing them down on scraps of paper and in my phone notes. These diaries are transforming me into a poor parody of Jo March from Little Women - dashing through the house to reach some form of pressed parchment and record… Continue reading Day 21: Things I Must Have Written But Can’t Remember and Won’t ReRead.