Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot h...

 It was the best of times and the worst of times – the best because we were young, the worst because we didn’t know any better. That’s how...

  It was a town of poets and photographers, patriots and piss-heads, sailors and emigrants, croppy boys and teddy boys, th...

“You’ve made a holy show of yourself, boy!”   That was a saying back in the Wexford of my youth. It meant you’d done so...

  Every now and again, an artist comes along who changes the game. Bob Dylan springs immediately to mind. Yet, Dylan witho...

  Men No Longer Read Novels – the small headline in the bottom right-hand corner of either the Times or the Journal scream...

  When Christmas is at hand, like most emigrants my thoughts turn to home – Wexford Town , in my case. After I escort a ...