Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

Spoiler Alert – Goodbye –

To some this internet of things is a tool of usefulness, a place of learning, a pot in which to meet people, to share views and thoughts and hopes and dreams.

Like everything, this thing of things has its ups and downs and like a kite bobbing in strong winds, I fear those winds are getting stronger as this tool morphs even further.

As you all know I like simple and as such enjoy looking at a kite folded on the ground, it doesn’t have to be feet above my head. I’m happy knowing what it can do.

So this is it guys, I’m folding up my kite and as I do, I wish to thank you all for your company over these past few years. It’s been fun, buckets of fun. But like all good things…

Although I won’t be posting anything new, I’ll leave these pages public until they become mulched earth.

Slán agus beannacht.

Posted in Observations from an Irish Window


The blackbirds coat echo’s off the hawthorn, its buds sit in waiting, this years leaves curled up inside.

Down below birds bounce on their feeder while daffodils and crocus and bluebell show themselves over ground, their heads fastened, their greening stalks increasing in size with each new dawning.

It’s February and an awakening is occurring in my garden as the sun rises earlier and earlier, her arms lengthening her grasp.

Her daylight calling out to all, allowing everyone and everything dream of a new.

Soon my garden bench will be pulled out from the sanctuary of the garden shed, its winter hibernation over and instead of taking to the varying views from behind my window panes, ill be able to sit outside and feel and see first hand the abundant changes within my world.

Of course, those on the outer fringes looking in have already begun their spring rituals. Comments of “Oh, Spring will help perk you up” and “The warming weather will help you” have begun.

I used to try and educate, to explain, to remind those tongues, that no, spring doesn’t change my symptoms, just as winter doesn’t change them either but I gave up.

Facing into my sixth spring, I do so aware of this broken body, aware of the limits but focused on the positives, just as I did during winter and autumn and summer and the spring before.

As with everything, especially where humans are involved, there are spaces for complication but I fill those gaps with the simple and so distance myself from those tongues. As for spring itself, meteorologists cite springs arrival on March 1st,  however astronomically speaking spring is February 1st.

Within this small space of earth one things for sure, spring has arrived.

Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

Between the Sheets

Between the folds of dawn and dusk my world is shared.

Shared with pairs of rooks, magpies and hooded crows, mating’s often made for life. And then there are the starlings, most notably those who sit on next door’s TV ariel and even more noticeable is the starling who loves to neigh like a horse.

As for the one who mimics the whistle of a referee during a match, he had me searching out our road for a hidden human playing a prank, that is until I looked up.

Then there are the wagtails with their high pitched calls and the finches and tits, flashing’s of sounds and fleeting’s of colour.

Within their beginnings at dawn and endings at dusk, I share my space with each of these characters but as the sun sets, my garden becomes someone else’s world, a secretive layer of vibrancy held between the myriad shades of blacks and grey.

Giving up my world, I retreat indoors allowing these creatures carry out their nightly duties without me as an unwelcome silhouette. When at dawn, I tip from my sheets peering out into a new days sky, sometimes, just sometimes, I catch sight of one of those night time creatures hugging my fence line as he makes his way back to his hidden den, his waking hours ended, mine just begun.

Posted in Living with ME

Fake News Story

“If it isn’t Pinocchio. Tripped over your nose recently?”

This is the beginning of a conversation I had with a family member today, a conversation held after my husband was told by someone “I hear Marie is doing much better on her new treatment.”

A statement which left him asking “What the?”

Turns out, while I was busy feasting my eyes on varying newspapers in the aftermath of the recent US elections and reflecting upon the supposed hand social media played in its outcome, devouring all analytical analysis of fake news stories, from their inception to their growth, a fake story was circulating about me.

One in which I’d met a new treatment for ME/CFS, a treatment which had essentially cured me. And to think while I was sitting with a pounding headache all day Monday and resorting to my arm support bandage on Wednesday and suffering a bad night on Thursday, a clone of mine was living her life healed, bettered, free of ME.

Oh to wish.

The lesson of this story?

ME doesn’t just affect the inflicted patient, a patient who ultimately has to digest their diagnosis, accept it, live with it. ME impacts entire families. Families who are left struggling to cope with the diagnosis of their loved one, families who use denial as a means of coping and sometimes down right lies. Coping it turns out, has many formats.

As I pointed out to my Pinocchio, words have their consequences and as such, I’m writing this post to warn readers:


*** To anyone wishing to avail of fact based information relating to ME/CFS, you can do so here at the Irish ME/CFS Association and here at the Irish ME Trust***


Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

Prehistoric Creatures

The sound strengthened.

Looking towards the narrow road where a large HGV lost of all co-ordinates was expected to be found, there was nothing but the bleakness of blankness.

Listening again, my ears turned themselves upwards into the bare morning sky reflecting the off-white frosting’s below. Standing still tucked between my wellington boots and crunching’s of icicles, I did so as the sound gathered itself like that of a prehistoric dinosaur and then suddenly as if falling from a hidden pocket in the sky, there they were right above my head.

Two grey heron flying side by side, their combined wingspan greater than the breadth of the road nearby. Their wings noising together, their heads bobbing as they loudly croaked to one another. All the while I stood beneath them spellbound, staring up into their grey torso’s the way in which a magician captures an audience before POOF, they were gone.

Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

Parachuting Fairies

As day length shortens and winter’s arrival is almost upon us, I sit wedged between a cacophony of colourful hues. Oranges and yellows and pinks, all taking to their stage for one season only.

Some sway lightly on tender hooking’s of the branches of half nude trees, while others gracefully float to the ground like parachuting fairies on delicate wings. While some thrust themselves forcibly out and up and down, dipping and diving, twirling like some untethered kite, until they reach the ground, where they glitter among the base of trees or the undergrowth of a hedgerow, peeping out like some rare unusual animal in hiding.

The more extroverted dance about the skyline of the lawn until their display is done and they bow toward their audience, shriveling up, waiting to be munched on by a passing hungry slug or caught between the sleeves of my bin liner, where next year they will be reincarnated as leaf mould. Mixed with compost to feed my many plants.

After all, autumn is but a stepping stone toward spring and re-birth.


Posted in Published Stories & Poetry

NY Literary Magazine

Two of my poems “The Balanced Book” and It’s the not Thinking” have been published in the   NY Literary Magazine’s “ECHOES” Anthology – Collection of Modern Poems with Deep Meaning   and my poem “The Balanced Book” received 2nd place in the poems about life category.

As per Editor-in-Chief Elizabeth Harding: “Echoes” is a poetry collection featuring today’s most remarkable, modern poetry by both new and award-winning poets of all ages and nationalities.

In the current issue, deep meaningful poems about life and living, sincere poems about thoughts and feelings, dark & sad poetry, as well as inspirational poems and striking paintings will captivate you throughout the entire 54 pages.

This anthology is available as a print magazine and as a free-to-read digital magazine. Download and read for free the digital poetry magazine on Scribd or on Issuu.
Get the Kindle Edition here.
Buy the print magazine here.

Most of all, enjoy!

Posted in Published Stories & Poetry

One Hundred Voices


The anthology One Hundred Voices (Centum Press 2016) contains short stories and flash fiction written by a varied mix of 100 authors and I’m pleased to have my fiction piece “The Giraffe Hunters” (previously published by The Nottingham Review) between its covers.

Should you wish to purchase the book, it can be ordered via the publisher here and also on Amazon.

Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

Musings from her couch – May Issue

Is privacy a word of our past? Something the next generation will hear about but never fully understand and will blame be placed on us for its demise?

After all, it’s we who allow social media sit with us at dinner tables, share intimate family dates, some even take this social tool away on holidays, posting pictures for everyone else to see.

Have we lost the capability to share a private moment with only those in that moment with us and how bettered are we for sharing our private details? Have the social media conglomerates misdirected our attention, and while we’re busy sharing all our information, their employees are busy constructing profiles of us, taking note of what it is we buy, where we go and who we go with. Do complete strangers know about those shoes you recently bought? Do they know how many people are in your family? Where you live? Do they have your e-mail address?

As a child I was told not to talk to strangers and never give my address or phone number to anyone I didn’t know, now everything appears to be shared with people we don’t know. And it’s our hands that have uploaded the photos, typed the comments and the tweets, we’re the ones who willingly broke down the veil of privacy. Something once cherished and minded. Something we’ve given away for free.

Were we conned into it? Perhaps but whether we did so willingly or unwillingly, we’re about to send privacy to a redundant dictionary. About to teach children what that word was, what it meant in our daily lives and we’re going to have to explain why we gave it up.


(As published in the Athenry News and Views Magazine, May Issue)

Posted in Observations from an Irish Window

The Tempestuous Bat

Did you know bats will come into your kitchen if you leave your backdoor open at twilight?

And it turns out, they don’t like to leave easily… those little wings and their twisting and turning above your head, at your head, to the side of your head will have you dipping and diving almost in awe, if it weren’t for the fact of the task at hand.

Losing the battle, I enlisted the help of my very unhappy husband, his job to hold up a bed sheet and help push the bat towards the open door, while I had a large bath towel doing the very same. One problem, two of us, a large kitchen/sunroom and one very deft flying bat…

As it turns out, our flying bat ended up requiring some rest and so que a stool and my hand in the towel reaching up to our kitchen cupboards…  a small squeal from my palm and the flying creature was soon back in the comforting surroundings of the darkened outdoors.