While Angela Merkel has brought Ireland nothing but ongoing austerity, she is coming to the fore as the real leader of Europe. As we all watch Donald Trump lurch from one embarrassment to another Angela plays things in a calm and low key way. She’s very much the adult to his pouty toddler. The recent meetings to discuss climate change . . .
I was driving through County Wexford recently on my way to a meeting in a small rural community centre. About three miles from the village I stopped to pick up a hitcher. She was a woman of about my own age, otherwise, before you start to worry about me, I probably wouldn’t have stopped. We immediately started chatting and I admired her tan, . . .
When the world is too much, where would you turn to for comfort? When you see a problem, who would you trust to help? If you need advice who would you ask? Would you turn to politics? I read recently that the Pokemon generation look for all their answers on google. When asked if they would lobby government to solve an issue, most of . . .
I became a mother in my twenties, when everything was new and I had all the right answers. I would feed my kids only organic food, let them express their emotions and their creativity, keep them away from all harm and negativity. I certainly did my best, but being the perfect mother turns out to be an impossible task. Too late I read . . .
We organised the first International Women's Day Celebration, in 1986. My baby, just a few weeks old, came with me that night. His Dad looked after him in a room downstairs while I facilitated the meeting of about 150 women. If needed he could be brought up to me for a feed.......such are women's lives, the personal is always . . .
This is a guest post I wrote for Vision and verb shortly after the very sad murder of Jill Meagher in Melbourne. This month Tom Meagher, Jill's widower has become an advocate for the Irish White Ribbon Campaign. Tom has been writing about his experiences here on the White Ribbon . . .
The city of Rome is a masculine environment. The might of the Basillicas of both Ancient Rome and Vatican Rome, the heroic figures in the sculptures of the Piazza Navonna and the Trevi Fountain. The strong backs of suited men drinking espressos at cafe counters in the early morning. Rome . . .
There's a bit of a warrior queen in me that wants to protect my creative space. If I could make a moat of distance between me and the world I would do it. Barricading myself into a turret room and staying there for as long as it took or until I was thoroughly weary of it. I also know that no sooner had I closed the door, than I would weep for . . .
Her labour Salty finger tips cling to aching wrist. Pumping elbows, hang from cliff hanger shoulders. Taut chords strangle the hardened neck. Delivering a weighty head through brain blowing tedium. Leaves tangle and soak her skin. Cool on cheeks, all hot from google alerts. Eyeballs . . .
Liking and friending. Linking and posting. Scraping the barrel. Tidying and preening, until every box is ticked. The laptop to the flickering screen. The keyboard to the twitter machine. Perfectly formed in 140 characters or less. With pink highlights and lipstick to match. Colour synched, paypal'd and photoshopped. With tips, lots of tips. . . .