Mandy and the universe
“I understand the universe,” wrote one student in his exercise book; an interesting assertion, given the utter randomness of the cosmos in which we inhabit. It was dark by the time I had finished marking a pile of books, the office was reflected in the window, beyond it the car park outside was beginning to empty Perhaps the student could … [continue reading …]
How to be invisible
One Saturday evening in the early 1990s, I sat watching the BBC Northern Ireland news. There had been trouble in North Belfast, disturbances on the streets and the throwing of bricks and petrol bombs. The rioting was in daylight and the BBC news cameras, positioned behind a row of grey RUC Land Rovers, showed youths who were wearing balaclavas, or … [continue reading …]
Trade requires profit, not politicians
An odd scene my grandmother used to recount always serves as a reminder that, whatever voters and politicians might decide about Brexit, if there is a profit to be made, then there will always be trade. My grandmother was born in 1910 in Chiswick in West London. One of the stories she used to recount was of French onion sellers … [continue reading …]
TELEGRAPHIC TRANSFER NOTICE ,
This was spammed by Google. It is very amateurish. Zenith Bank (UK) Ltd 39 Cornhill London EC3V 3ND United Kingdom tel: +44 70 8646 8527 Fax:+447043071539 Dear Esteemed Customer, TELEGRAPHIC TRANSFER NOTICE. We are hereby officially notify you concerning your fund Telegraphic Transfer through our bank, Zenith Bank (UK) Ltd United Kingdom, to your bank account, which has been officially … [continue reading …]
Every brick tells a story
Surrounded by undergrowth, shrouded in ivy, the buildings become less and less visible as the years pass. Perhaps the ownership of the land is unclear, perhaps the deeds lie gathering dust in a distant office, perhaps no-one wants to claim responsibility for the pockets of rough land and the ruinous structures. Once they were the property of the War Office, … [continue reading …]
Sunday thoughts for Armistice Day, 11th November 2018
“She, out of her poverty, put in everything” Mark 12:44 The Island of Ireland Peace Park at Messines in Belgium is a place of simplicity, a place of tranquility. A path leads to a round tower, beside the path there are inscribed standing stones and stone slabs set into the ground. Along with the memorials recording in stark terms the … [continue reading …]
The days after the end of the war
On an autumn day, twenty five years ago, in a farmhouse kitchen in Killough in Co Down, there was a conversation about the closing days of 1918. “D’ye mine the Big Flu?” “I don’t, Sam. The Big Flu was at the end of the First World War, 1918. That’s seventy-five years ago”. “Ach. Ye would nae mine it then”. Sam … [continue reading …]
Punk deceived itself
Never having been arrested, never having received a warning, never even having had a cross word with a police officer, I glared at the man who looked down at us from the upstairs window of a Taunton pub. Forty years ago, Taunton was a country market town, it was the embodiment of shire respectability. Apart from the Glastonbury festival, which … [continue reading …]
Settling the account
This story was expanded from a piece of flash fiction. It was entered for this year’s RTÉ Francis McManus Short Story Competition. The evening classes at the college gave her the opportunity. It was a computing class that had taught her to use the Internet, something of which she had been frightened. It had been the stories in the papers … [continue reading …]