Having my (Yorkshire) Pudding ... and Eating It
By any standards, except by our poor farmers', it's been a 'great ol' summer' in Ireland. When today's children look back on summer 2026 with those golden hay-tinted glasses, they will actually be telling the truth when they say the sun shone a lot, there was very little rain and they could even remember their mothers going in for a swim in the Atlantic. There will perhaps be wonder and awe when they say the water was not that cold. Or maybe, by the time of their storytelling, the globe may have warmed so much that there will still be amazement that people could actually swim in the seas at one point in human history, before they became large stagnant hot tubs.
How spoilt we all were with events, festivals and activities we could actually do in the outdoors this summer without the worry of coming home squelching and sodden. In my case, after my personal highlight of my reading and Q&A session at the wonderful Hinterland Festival, I travelled to West Cork to have a reunion with some of my oldest (longest!) school friends from Mount St Michael in Rosscarbery, I played (bad) golf with great buddies along the Atlantic Coast on three great courses, (Rosses Point, Carne and Enniscrone) and then I attended the West Cork Literary Festival in Bantry.
While there I participated in the Novel Writing course with the talented and lovely author Claire Adam whose excellent novel Love Forms was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2025. For nigh on four years, I've been struggling to write the longer form of a novel and Claire's course was very encouraging and helpful. The joy of attending such courses is, as well as interacting with a successful author who has walked the walk and written the book, you get to meet a bunch of other writers like yourself who are struggling with the blank page/screen, but who keep coming back to it just because we have to for some reason. I can only conclude that writing is one of those undertakings that helps us to make sense of this mad world we live in.
We had some relaxation, recreation and rumination in Rosslare (where you mostly do things that start with R, obviously) during August before we hit the high seas to take the ferry to Scotland for Deirdre's wedding to her dashing groom, Clark. What a wonderful event it was with a beautiful bride, very many men in kilts and unseasonal glorious weather. The ceremony was held outdoors in the bountiful gardens of Elsick House outside of Aberdeen. The starter for the delicious wedding meal was a haggis, neeps and tatties timbale with whisky sauce. I can attest that the 'neeps and tatties' part of it was delicious but I was too squeamish to try the haggis. I know! Wimp! My fatal mistake was to Google it (and its ingredients!) beforehand. After the meal we danced until our legs and heads ached and finished the day with a rousing rendition of By the Bonny, Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond where we all 'danced' in a circle and the bride and groom were lifted on the shoulders of the aforementioned many men in kilts. It was a fitting end to a wonderful Scottish wedding.
Next day we took the high (or was it the low road?) and promised we'd never eat (or drink) again. Though we certainly promised to meet all our new friends, the lovely members of the Christie clan, again before too long. I was especially chuffed when Clark's mum and aunt downloaded the Audible version of Love, Lycra and Tattoos there and then at the end of the night and promised faithfully that, regardless of whether they could understand Sinéad's narration or not, and regardless of whether they enjoyed it or not, they would give it a five-star review. I do hope they remembered their promise the next day!
All of the above is a preamble to saying that's how I have finished up in Yorkshire on a week-long writing retreat with the brilliant Matt Kendrick and Ruth Brandt as our more than able hosts. What a joy it is to be in such an idyllic setting and to be allowed have the time and headspace to attempt to get back into a writing routine before I return home to real life. There is just the right mix of workshops, one-to-one sessions, free time and time for sharing and socialising with some truly gifted writers, mostly of flash and short fiction. It is unusual and liberating not to have to explain what flash fiction is and not to have to justify why I love reading and writing it. I would be preaching to the converted. I will be sure to join the talented Sarah McPherson this autumn in her monthly Bite-Sized Book Club for what sounds like really interesting and enjoyable sessions dedicated to reading flash fiction. I have also been lucky enough to spend time and learn from the excellent storyteller Cole Beauchamp. You can find her on Bluesky at @nomad-sw18.bsky.social
The food options are also excellent around these parts and I now have Yorkshire Pudding much higher up my food list than the Scottish haggis. But never say never. Also there are some lovely walks with a part of the Trans Penine trail on our doorstep.
My Writing Life
Nobody is more surprised than I am to have had publication of three of my poems in an anthology and two journals recently. I can only give a big shout-out of gratitude to my fellow-writers in my Finnytribe poetry writing group who offer up monthly challenges to write a poem in various forms and on different themes and who are generous enough at each meeting to give encouragement and constructive criticism to my poetic endeavours.
The first anthology of waterfords, Duanaire, was published by West Waterford Press Ltd. at the end of August. I was delighted to have four of my waterfords entitled My E-Bike, Pico Lopes, The Cure and U2 in Croke Park included in the anthology. I absolutely love their by-line: 'Fresh talent isn't always fresh-faced.' So true! A big thanks to my college room-mate Fionnuala for attending the launch on my behalf in Waterford last week and for purchasing a few copies.
The launch of issue 6 of Swerve, a fantastic magazine incorporating prose, poetry and visual art will take place in Books Upstairs in Dublin on Sunday 27th of September next at 2pm. What else would you be doing on a Sunday afternoon? Come along and enjoy new work from some of the contributing writers. I will be reading my poem The Golden-Topped Tartlet. Admission is free but pre-booking is essential at this link. I would love to see some of you there. Swerve 6 is already available to purchase in many good bookshops.
The official launch of Poetry Ireland Review Issue 149 takes place at the end of September also. This edition is edited by none other than the celebrated writer Colm Tóibín, so I am honoured to be included in the issue with my poem On the Windowsill. This poem began its life with a prompt from the brilliant British poet Ruth Padel at the West Cork Literary Festival in Bantry last year. It has taken a year of sculpting and honing and submitting before it has finally found its home in this auspicious journal. To say I'm delighted is the understatement of that year.
The editors of Ireland's Own, thankfully, seem to like my memoir pieces and I had two more published in recent editions. My First Playground, a piece about how we played as children on Main Street in Killarney appeared in the Summer edition. Buying Crisps for the Sos Beag, where I wrote about my memories of my first day in school was published last week.
Finally, my other writerly news is that my collection of a novella and stories Love, Lycra and Tattoos has been shortlisted in the Anthology category of the CAP Awards for Independent Authors. Thanks to the various librarians across the country who judged it to be strong enough to be included in the shortlist. I look forward to a great evening in Chapters Book Store on October the 9th next, regardless of the outcome of the judges' final decision.
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