Anyone for Tennis? by Audrey McGrath
It’s that time of the year again. The summer solstice has come and gone, the
Menu
Mining Memories is all about living history and gives you an opportunity to submit your writing to writing.ie. This section is all about your recollections and memories whether from yesterday or from fifty years ago. What can you remember of your school days? What was the most dramatic incident in your life? Share your memories and help build the National Folklore Collection to reflect the lives of Irish people, wherever they are living. We are keen to see all kinds of memories in submissions of up to 1500 words, poetry or prose.
It’s that time of the year again. The summer solstice has come and gone, the
My first real memory of Ireland was at Easter. I was seven and my family,
You danced across my mind just now… I have your smiling picture beside my bed.
I was talking with José Mari in my pidgin Spanish last Saturday evening about the
After Mr O’Leary had cut down the tree we’d been using as our hideout we
“Before I speak to you sometimes, I have got to empty my head of all
‘There she blows.’ Those were the words the children’s granny always used at the first
The weather here in the Basque Country is as reliable as its Irish equivalent. On
Tomorrow is another day, and also the start of a new year, but with a
In the early hours of last Sunday week I arrived home ravenous after a Saturday
I realised the power of the clergy because when Jane Mansfield did come to Tralee
Maria awoke to a choir of voices pouring in through the open window. Her eyes
On Thursday evening last, while finishing off dinner before heading out, my flat-mate, Aroa, told
“Tu te souviens le mec avec le cahier – l’écrivain?“ “Lequel?” She was looking for
Having recently read the book Walking with Ghosts, by Gabriel Byrne the most memorial take
In 1957, I was two years old and had three older brothers and my first
A few dollops of mayonnaise on chips last Sunday evening turned my stomach that night
We are two years old, me, and the little girl who drowned in the canal.
I always enjoy my morning cuppa in Bar Trapaia with the paper and a chat
Well, it seems quite apt for me to be writing this piece right now. I
