with cat on a wardrobe and my dad looking over my shoulder.

He did smile in real life.
But never in front of a camera when he was holding a salmon.


Holding a salmon is no laughing matter.


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Self portrait



Summer is upon us! (For some obscure reason, summer starts on May 1st in Ireland)

Quick kids, grab your warm coats, and woolly hats.

Summer is upon us!

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Mayday! Mayday!



They like their game of domino before heading upstairs for the ablutions/pyjamas/night-time read ritual.

This photo is blurred.
Tough shit.

You try and hold a DSLR with your left hand to take a shot of your damaged right thumbnail before the bastard thing grows back… At least I don’t wince in pain any longer when I put my hand in my money.

Hold on. I still do. But only when it involves extracting money from it. 

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The domino effect

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Plan of attack


– Right girls, no messing about this time. That gang from Sallynoggin, Bridget O’Mara’s cronies, snatched the last yellow sticker malt breads from under our noses yesterday. We can’t have a repeat of that today, for flip sake.

Let’s synchronise our iPhones.

Paula, you take aisle B. Just pretend that your are leafing through Men’s Health Monthly. Checking the abs on the young dudes. You should see Alfie with the yellow stickers printing machine between thirteen hundred and thirteen o seven, from the office, along aisle B before a sharp right turn to the Reduced to Clear aisle.
Make sure that none of Bridget’s girls are hiding in the lounge wear section.

Maureen, you are on butcher counter duty. You know the drill. Ask to see the crumbed ham, then change your mind, then Carroll’s ham, then change your mind, then the Black Forrest smoked ham, then ask for 1 slice, then change your mind when you find out it’s made in Germany. You’ve been there before, you can do it with your eyes closed.
Except that you need to keep them open. Wide open. And ready to detect any suspect movement in the Yellow Sticker aisle.

Emily, you take the fruit and veg aisle. I want you to squeeze every single tomato in search of a ripe one. From there you will be covering the southern passage to the target. Any sign of Bridget, let out a wolf whistle. Or imitate the squeak of the tomato.

Myself and Fionnuala will be on mobile patrol. From the DVDs to the artisan beers section, back along the bakery. In a loop. 2’13” per rotation. We can be on target within 8 second upon receipt of the signal.

I managed to get some insider’s intelligence. Mrs Dunphy’s nephew, who is seeing Kylie McMorrow, from Convent road, the grand-daughter of the assistant manager. He told her that they have a large stock of Cadbury Swiss Mini Rolls reaching their sell by date today.

60% off.

Bridge O’Mara, you don’t stand a shaggin chance.



And then there were two.

Luca finally produced a mini-Luca for his graduation poster, after much coaxing. 
The size of the mini-Luca and the fact that it is destined for a poster leads me to believe that Luca is still struggling with proportions and space management… 


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like son…

I managed to rouse for long enough to feebly lift the camera to my own teary eye before collapsing back across my double seat, moaning softly at the thought of heading back to work for another week of corporate fun and frolics.


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Like father


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