Catherine is a direct descendant of Arthur Guinness who started the stout, (she and Wayne got special treatment at the brewery), and a grand-daughter of Harry Guinness who was a leader alongside Roger Casement and Edmund Morel in opposing Belgian slavery in the Congo. (In 2017 Catherine wrote a stunning book, Rubber Justice, about him.) Continue reading
During the night, my brother Brian’s dog never stopped yapping. Early next morning my mother called out and she always used the Irish language pronunciation of my name.
‘Meehawl, your fry is on the table, and you’ll need it. You have a long day ahead of you.’ Continue reading
I watched her through the process as her fingers moved so fast as to blur. Constantly she consulted the intricate pattern from a book by her side. Continue reading
Winter is coming by David M Reid Acrylics on canvas A Homeless Ghost by David M Reid 28 October 2025 In ’68 I left my troubled Belfast homeland.Friends, with only a hint of friendly malice,slyly suggested,‘You’re not emigrating.You’re deserting.’ In that divided city,one must pick a side.But I feltneither Irish nor British,neither Protestant … Continue reading
Her final words are to the homeless and to those who become so because home is not safe: ‘To anyone trapped in a place that does not feel like home, and anyone who has ever been asked the question ‘why don’t you just leave?’ This book is for you. Continue reading
I watched her through the process as her fingers moved so fast as to blur. Constantly she consulted the intricate pattern from a book by her side. Continue reading
There’s a kind of seeing that only happens from the corner of the eye. I’ve stood outside at twilight, watching a crescent moon, convinced I could trace a full silver orb. Never when looking directly. Continue reading
Late in the lean month of Iúil an Chabáiste on Friday 26 July 1850, before the digging of the new crop and at the remnants of the previous seasons harvest, agents of Government, bailiffs, crowbar men, police, army, law and land agents gathered at Ross Cottage at Cullohill or Kearns Cross to clear the surrounding townlands of Cooleen, Carrigeen, Cullohill, Mountkinane, Curraghkeale, Glenanoge and Glenarisk. Continue reading
I had longed with all of my heart to be one of the girls taking the Leaving Certificate, exchanging ideas with the nuns, listening, considering, and being part of Paradise Lost or Paradise Regained. But that was not to be. Continue reading
Swinging on the front gate with my brother for mother to arrive home with the fruit we only saw once a year: coconuts and pomegranates. My brothers attacking the coconuts with a hammer and chisel. Me, the youngest, given the first taste of the milky juice. Continue reading
Tinteán 