One of the worst meals that I ever ate in my life was served up by a fellow, one of whose aliases was “Bob Ridell” . I’m not sure even now if that was his alias or his real name , because he used several monikers depending on circumstances and location. It was a meal […]
Politics-free Zone
As I’ve said in the main section, I’d like to use this part of the site for stuff that’s not got a political bent – more concerned with creative writing. I’ll put up stuff of my own from time to time and invite comment. If you’re interested in giving something you’ve written – non-political, remember, or at least with creativity the main element – then by all means put it up and let’s have a bit of discussion around it. I know people feel tentative about exposing creative stuff, especially if you haven’t done much of it yet, but believe me, it’s the only way. An un-audienced piece makes the sound of one hand clapping…
THE PERFECT MACHINE by Harry McAvinchey
I awoke thinking of bicycles. There’s nothing too extraordinary in that really. It’s how the mind operates isn’t it? In more ancient times people would invariably read some great prophesy into this. They’d call the soothsayer or hoke through the entrails of some dead animal for an abstract reason for this glowing image appearing and […]
BISCUITS by Randall Stephen Hall
Flags and the Fear of Biscuit Theft. “What’s yours is yours. What’s mine’s me own.” This wee poem/song portrays the deep fear and emotion that lies close to our core as individuals around biscuit theft and personal boundaries. If the biscuit is what we enjoy and hold dear, then it is understandable that people […]
THE PASSION FLOWER by Harry McAvinchey
Gardening can be a great meditation and a solace for the mind. I didn’t always think like that of course. Who can find time to meditate when they are young, feckless and roaring or when they are breaking through the clatter and mayhem involved in the raising of a young family? Meditation? Thoughtful contemplation? […]
PASSPORT TO …PIMLICO by Harry McAvinchey
How lucky are we that we live in a place where you are entitled to two nationalities as a birthright? You can get an Irish passport or a British passport .Or if you have more money than sense, maybe even both.There are people out there who would sell their kidneys for that kind of privilege. […]
APPLE CHARLOTTE by Harry McAvinchey
Apple Charlotte will always remind me of my mother. “And what exactly is Apple Charlotte?” …he fairly sneered in obvious disbelief. This was my twelve-year-old self being confronted by Brother Eustace, critiquing an essay I’d recently submitted about the joys of Halloween…the Eve of All Hallows.I could feel the prickling embarrassed reddening spreading up […]
IT MUST BE CHRISTMAS by Harry McAvinchey
You know what a sceptic I am . If there isn’t a logical explanation that hangs together without its knickers showing , I’m not about to take a leap of faith. God, the Tooth Fairy , Santa Claus …It’s all the same to me . if it doesn’t stack up or make some discernible sense, […]
THERE’S NOT A LOT OF COFFEE IN BRAZIL TODAY by Harry McAvinchey
It looks like Garth Brooks fans and everyone in Brazil should form a Losers’ Club, or all sign up for Post Traumatic Stress counselling. The cancellation of Garth’s five concerts in Dublin and the host nation Brazil’s inglorious exit from the World cup have happened within mere hours of each other and here we all […]
THANK THE STARS , IT’S NOT COMPULSORY by Harry McAvinchey
Thank the stars that none of it is compulsory! You know , they haven’t brought out some daft law making us all do the same things at the same time. What did I say about a month ago about the “flegs” suddenly blossoming overnight as if heralded by some unseen omen or call from across […]
ANY MONEY FOR TEA BAGS , MISTER? by Harry McAvinchey
“What night would suit you for doing your vigilante duty, mister?”.. This from a wee spavined, rat-faced ,overly earnest but still matter-of-fact,thin- as-a reed, skinny chancer with the worst kind of singsong Belfast accent . He was dressed in “combat fatigues” .. They were the kind of cheap greeny , khaki ex-army clothes you could […]
