A Law unto Itself by Poraic Cahill
I was in Bar Metro the other week supping on a cider and imbibing on
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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.
I was in Bar Metro the other week supping on a cider and imbibing on
He came from the south, this bully called Ian. Like most bullies, the less resistance he
Radio has been in my life since I was born. There was a radio in
Browsing the news from home in the Irish Independent on-line a few weeks back I
Her throat fragments, like the slow cracking of glass, as unfamiliar memories bend within shadows.
The other week Roman was telling me about his weekend, running with the bulls in
I gave Seamus Heaney a grant once. At least I think I did. If I
A good while back I wrote about a fella I went on a stag to
Whenever I eat a McVities chocolate digestive my mind goes back to that day. Beaumont
“We, the United States and Ireland, are divided by a common language,” Cressida, the sister
Last Sunday afternoon I was walking along the river path across from Zumaia’s library when
How will I be remembered? That’s a question my mother never asked herself. She was
A couple of weeks back the Principal of our local girls’ school retired, we had
I was living in Kent, in a small village not far from Sevenoaks, England. We
As I sit here looking out at my garden, I am reminded of a quote
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
