Mrs Raheny with her default expression for the last four days.
Trying to decide whether the book is wrong, or the laptop is wrong, or the teacher didn’t cover that particular point.
She is pretty adamant that there is no Sort Ascending or Sort Descending options in Excel.
She excels at faulting the fucking laptop. Or the shagging book. Or that teacher bollix, the one who snorts really loudly and doesn’t give a crap.
There’s been quite a bit of swearing in the house lately.
My years of teaching and my legendary patience are put to the test. “And what the f*&**” do you call that?! Isn’t it f**** obvious?! A button with a shaggin funnel and an A and a Z! That’s for sorting and filtering, obvious-fucken-ly. What else would you use a funnel for?! To bottle A and Z letters?!”
St Patrick’s day on the deserted beach this morning with the boys. Which was nice.
I was reflecting no longer than a few days ago that there is a dearth of graffiti extolling the virtues of breast feeding.
It looks like I am not the only citizen in favour of promoting the practice.
I am not religious.
Yet I have a lot of respect for the tradition of Ash Wednesday.
Every year I ask people on the street if they wouldn’t mind me taking their portrait, with the ash mark on their forehead.
While most of the time people would normally be weary of a stranger taking their photograph, the vast majority today were willing participants.
For one day people are proud to display their beliefs, their tradition, their sense of belonging. Their awareness of mortality.
Ash to ash. Dust to dust.
A million thanks to you all for your good-humoured, spontaneous participation.
(You’ll have to scroll to the bottom to meet my youngest participants to date)
Thank you Luca, for still deigning to accompany us on a forest walk.
A teenager, and yet not putting up too much of a fight at the idea of spending an hour or two in the forest with your aul mum and dad and brother Finnzy-Bob.
While Mimi was in her second home.
Doing gym. Nastics.