Some days are longer than others.

Some days don’t really exist.

Some days are an eternity.

Some days blend into each other.

Some days are those last few, at the end of days.



art, death, life lesson, love, parenting, photography, portrait

On the relativity of time



The plan was to go to jail. With Finn. While Luca was at his Junior Plays rehearsal. And Mimi was performing in the Mill Theater with her musical theater group.
Way too much culture for the Finnzer and I. Prison would be a good escape, we thought.
So off we went to Kilmainham Gaol. Except that there was no way to get in. The place had been taken over by Spanish exchange students who all wanted to see where Patrick Pearse (he who built the railway station) was executed on 3 May 1916. Or get off with each other. More likely the second option, upon reflection.
So Finn and I (mostly I, upon reflection) opted to go to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA for the acronym lovers) for a gander.
See, no matter how hard you try to escape more refined pursuits, they catch up with you sooner of later.
As luck would have it, there was a pretty decent exhibition in the upper west wing.








And then I offered to take him to a pub for a glass of Coca-cola and a bag of crisps. He willingly agreed.
Off we went to the Royal Oak, which unfortunately was closed. It would have been nice for him, for his first time in a pub, to go to a place not much bigger than his sitting room. I would have loved to take him there. The place where I used Euros for the first time, on 1 January 2002.


So we went to the Hole in the Wall pub instead, at it was a short drive to Phoenix park. And he was almost as excited as his sister with is super sweet caffeinated drink and crisps, watching the end of the Newcastle/Arsenal match.


art, dublin, ireland, love, parenting, photography, portrait, tourism, travel

Get out of jail free card


Reflective journeying


Some muppet forgot to pack the Pringles




Longford the colourful


Not just cold, but Frozen


Putting the beauty in beauty salon


Ballaghadereen Tourist Office – tourists wanted


Fancy a pint, anyone?


On the road again


Someone forgot his Easter eggs at Nana’s…


Some muppet did not forget to pack the Doritos

art, funny, humour, ireland, love, parenting, photography, tourism, travel

Road trip



One of the main reasons for this French trip, this swim upstream back to the source, was the deadline of going to see my granny before she sinks further into the slowsands of dementia.

She did recognise me. Or rather she did recognise a version of me in her muddled past-cum-present.

Poor Brigitte. She is not in a good place. Physically, she is in as good a place as could be expected, given the circumstances.
But in her mind, she is in distress.

She catches glimpses of her current state.

She can feel herself sinking ever deeper.

And she cannot put it into words.

She cannot demand relief.

art, death, life lesson, love, monochrome, parenting, photography, portrait




Breakfast of champions for Mimi, who’s made a decent dent in her stash of M&Ms before Mrs mememe2U and I came downstairs at 9 am.

She won it at her friend Saidhbhe’s birthday party.

Her guess of 109 M&Ms was the closest to the actual 117 total contained in the jar.
No better contestant than a sugary-shite addict to win the jackpot.

The problem is that she is just as accurate when it comes to identifying missing M&Ms from her loot.

She knows just how many Finn and I manage to knick during the only 30 second window of opportunity when she wasn’t jealously keeping an eye on the jar.

Let me tell you, you don’t want to mess with a junkie…

a splash of colour... quite literally, art, dublin, dun laoghaire, essential parenting implements, ireland, love, patience, photography, portrait

M&M, elle aime!

art, dun laoghaire, ireland, love, not funny, not humour, photography

Have a nice day


That was the caption for the start of my day, shitty, mildly irritating but funny at the same time.

And then I heard about the Manchester terrorist attack.

One would think that there cannot be any gradation in horror. But there is.
The very choice of the target is sickeningly evil. A concert attended by excited pre-teens. For some of them their first concert ever.

For some of them their last concert ever.

With no possibility of bringing the perpetrator to justice. But how do you bring justice to the maimed, to the broken relatives of the dead, to the stunned community?

This sad, deluded, sick person is dead. Vapourised into nothingness. It was an undeservedly quick death for the bastard. He is nothing now and we shall not mention him anymore, because that would keep him alive for the little bit longer that he should not be granted.

What he believed in is also nothing. A mirage. An illusion. A cancer.

What is very real is the hurt and distress and inability to comprehend for those who are left behind.

What is very real is the 22 gaping holes in the universes of hundreds of people for whom 23 May 2017 will not gradually becomes a distant, less painful memory.

What is very real is a new, less colourful, more traumatic life for the scores of injured kids, teens and adults for whom 23 May will remain the essence of evil.

My thoughts are very much with them right now.

My car door handle is crying today.


Today I walked for two hours with a teenager. It was, like, totally boring, like. We talked about films, and history, and video games, and sexual education, and the internet, and special effect, and art, and exams.
It was, like, totally boring.
And mega embarrassing.

Jayzus, I hope that none of my mates saw me walking on the streets of Dun Laoghaire, talking to him. The embarrassment. Total morto I am…

art, dublin, dun laoghaire, essential parenting implements, funny, humour, ireland, love, parenting, photography, portrait

Totally embarrassing, like