Pól Ó Lorcáin
Paul Larkin

Chroniclers are privileged to enter where they list, to come and go through keyholes, to ride upon the wind, to overcome in their soarings up and down, all obstacles of distance, time and place.
Charles Dickens - Barnaby Rudge, Chapter The Ninth

Scéal don nollaig - Christmas Story

The Cry For Help

She blamed herself. If she hadn’t humoured him at the beginning things would have been different.
She remembered it vividly. He had come down one morning with fluorescent blue bicycle shorts on him and a white cyclists top that did nothing for him but pronounce his middle class paunch. It had all been a great laugh and he asking her to feel his testicle pad. A great laugh, that is until he told her that he was going into work like that. Their three kids were appalled. “Dad, you look ridiculous”, said Sebastian, the eldest boy. Jenny had actually started to cry and couldn’t eat her croissant and Simon closed his eyes as their father sped off on his new mountain bike. He returned that night with a sprained calf and a scrape along his shin. He could hardly walk and she had hoped that that would be the end of it but... Léigh an t-alt uilig - Read Full Article....


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