Showing posts from June, 2013

Nonchalance & Insouciance

She would have lived her life in Nonchalance, and Insouciance, apart from making her living, which was a Nuisciance - Ogden Nash.  Edna O'Brien, Enchanting at Eighty Three The Town Hall in Dalkey is chock-a-block. There is a palpable air of expectation in the warm room and I skid to a halt having sprinted from a moving car. The Dalkey Book Festival is in full swing and round every corner strolls someone that could be someone – if you get my drift. The seating is of the kind where you establish elbow room similar to flying. The lights go out, the coughing stops, and Sean Rocks comes out to applause.  He is here to introduce and attempt to interview an Irish Woman, an Irish Writer, and an Irish Legend. Edna O’Brien takes to the stage. My first thought is that she has aged. This is only mildly surprising as at 83 she looks unbelievably fantastic. There is the smallest twinge of vulnerability about her as she sits slowly to

Helping Hand

On the Doctors couch she buttoned her sleeve and swung her legs over the side. He stood with his back to her as he quickly soaped and dried his hands. The tang of the freeze spray hung in the air as he pressed the slides together and wrote her name. A neighbour in the same Square, he stood at her door in his shirtsleeves two days later when the results came back marked Priority. It was her Father who mentioned The Deacon . He had a vague memory of his address from when he had a skin tag removed from his neck, where it had been chafing under the shirt and tie he wore daily to work. There is a trinity of them at the farm gate as they wonder whereabouts   The Deacon is.  On a sweltering Sunday afternoon, as the hedges filled with furze, they drove to the isolated farmhouse.  His wife, wiping her floury hands on a floral house-coat, informs them that he is in the far field cutting sceachs . The nimble figure belies his age as he brings the curved tool down again and again, the su