The days spent dreaming of a future

And say then, that was my life.

For the days are long –

From the first milk van

To the last shout in the night,

An eternity. But the weeks go by

Like birds; and the years, the years

Fly past anti-clockwise

Like clock hands in a bar mirror

J.P. Donleavy’s Dublin, by Derek Mahon


A post-card from Rome

For the past ten years or so, our holidays have consisted entirely of weekend breaks, four nights maximum, in some British or European city. As a result, this month-long trip to Italy has taken a bit of getting used to. The first week was very strange, as it consisted of four short city breaks jammed … Continue reading “A post-card from Rome”

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