Eyes: the windows to our soul…and our survival?

This piece appeared in the Irish Examiner at some point in 2020. As restrictions return here in Australia (thankfully not in my current home of Queensland) now felt like a timely time to share here. Also, I'm lazy and forgot about it for approximately eight months. Enjoy! In a world of less – less touching,… Continue reading Eyes: the windows to our soul…and our survival?

I am dancing to Alex Cameron in my once-pristine hotel room

For more pieces like this one, sign up to my weekly newsletter, The Earnest Spoon, here. I am dancing to Alex Cameron in my once-pristine hotel room. It is still clean – I am not a gremlin – but the floor, once vacuumed to the point of appearing more leather than carpet, bears witness to… Continue reading I am dancing to Alex Cameron in my once-pristine hotel room

Further love letters to MEPs and TDs about deteriorating crisis on Lesvos/Calais

UPDATED, SEPTEMBER 16th: Following yesterday's announcement, I've attached a new letter to send to TDs and relevant ministers about the government's decision to take in a grand total of FOUR unaccompanied minors. FOUR. COpy and paste from below to show that IRELAND WELCOMES REFUGEES. Subject: Unacceptable Response to Lesvos Crisis - Ireland Must Welcome Refugees… Continue reading Further love letters to MEPs and TDs about deteriorating crisis on Lesvos/Calais

Fed up and Frustrated: What the “migrant crisis” really looks like in Calais

The desolate car park of the BP gas station on the outskirts of Calais is almost unrecognisable. What once was a place for refugees to gather to avail of the NGO services operating in the area has, overnight and thanks to the latest police eviction, become a new refugee settlement; yet another fragmented spin-off of… Continue reading Fed up and Frustrated: What the “migrant crisis” really looks like in Calais

18:19 on Rue Darnel.

Back to the clunk of a keyboard once again, frenetic tapping, pregnant pauses of navel-gazing, middle-distance staring. Back to trying to write myself out - or perhaps write myself in. Rue Darnel, Calais, Wednesday, 18:19. Sirens. Sitting out the window, legs dangling. Skin crunchy with sea-swim, sweat, an unfaltering failure on my part to moisturise.… Continue reading 18:19 on Rue Darnel.

Writing for rights and writing wrongs this December

Dear Reader, I'm going to endeavour to keep this short because it's Christmas and most reading this are too hungover, frazzled, and marinated in mulled wine and the repressed wrath only once-a-year family reunions can ignite to read more than is absolutely necessary. I assure you, this is absolutely necessary. Christmas is, in my opinion,… Continue reading Writing for rights and writing wrongs this December

A whine on opining from yet another white girl with a blog and entitlement

Sometimes I am so sickened by the sound of my voice I never want to write, speak, glass-shatteringly sing another word again. Other times I send 16 minute voice messages with only the tiniest shred of self-respect shaming me into a quick 'ok sorry for the spiel - byeeeeee'. Right now, I am in the… Continue reading A whine on opining from yet another white girl with a blog and entitlement