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ManAboutForty: Farewell ManAboutThirty
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It's funny the way things work out; the places one ends up. Tonight ManAboutForty sits up in bed, in a hotel room. Usually nothing remarkable in that for the Monday night life of a traveller. Except that tonight it's different. I'm in room 213 of Buswell's Hotel on Molesworth Street, Dublin. Just outside the gates of Leinster House. (It gets darn quiet round here at night time, compared to the bustle and jostle of national newsworthy happenings during the day.). 19 October, 2011 11:34. Blogs I Read .
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ManAboutForty: September 2011
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Ten Things Found in a Fairy's Pocket. Coming home from work this evening, a little girl I know greeted me with a poem that she wrote in school today. Ten Things Found in a Fairy's Pocket. A bright pair of wings,. A bag of licking lollipops that last forever,. An invisible cloak,. Staircases that change,. A snowman that melts in the winter,. A horse that has two legs,. A potion that turns you to dust,. A magic apple; if you take a bite you stay young always,. A suitcase the size of a car. Yes, our pool...
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ManAboutForty: September 2010
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On the Eve of Forty. Sitting between my almost-forty-year-old legs in the open kayak. You snuggle your wisp of a spine into my soft, warm belly. Only your tiny, six-year-old-boy, left hand. Emerges from the cocoon. To lazily play the line,. Or kind of hoping,. To catch a mackerel. We bob on the water. To the will of the every-other-second swell. Your sister bravely mans the bow,. Paddling to her father's instruction. I think I feel a pull, Dad. Nothing but the lead weight bouncing off the bottom. And any...
manaboutforty.blogspot.com
ManAboutForty: October 2011
http://manaboutforty.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html
It's funny the way things work out; the places one ends up. Tonight ManAboutForty sits up in bed, in a hotel room. Usually nothing remarkable in that for the Monday night life of a traveller. Except that tonight it's different. I'm in room 213 of Buswell's Hotel on Molesworth Street, Dublin. Just outside the gates of Leinster House. (It gets darn quiet round here at night time, compared to the bustle and jostle of national newsworthy happenings during the day.). Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Blogs I Read .
manaboutforty.blogspot.com
ManAboutForty: January 2010
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Hello to Two Thousand and Ten. Said my daughter,. At ten to two am,. As her irresponsible father tucked her in,. After we all arrived home. From the neighbour's New Year's party. Thank you God for two thousand and nine. And for bringing us another year:. Two thousand and ten. And thank you for lovely winter. When we can walk carefully on the ice in Galway. And thank you to Anne Marie for giving us a lovely party. And all those games like dancing and sword fights. A Wii, I mean. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
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ManAboutForty: November 2009
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Last of the Letters. ManAboutForty can do little these days without comparing (or contrasting) "new" life-events to events from more glorious days. It follows that this blog might become nothing more than a historic account of the prime of ManAboutForty. Well, maybe that's unlikely. Though it might not necessarily be a bad thing. I went greyhound racing on Saturday night with two neighbouring men-about-forty, at which meeting we consumed over a gallon of porter . each! Facebook photos have already been p...
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ManAboutForty: December 2009
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Tell ya what: I do like Mondays. Monday is much maligned. It gets a bad name for creeping up on you. No sooner has Friday evening delivered you safely into the bosom of the weekend high, than Sunday night churns out its forlorn presentation of Monday's looming low (whether or not you have a herd of cattle to fodder of a cold winter's morning). On top of that tonight, with the sun set on the shortest day, and simply just to grace and honour the passing of the longest night, this Monday produced a twenty-f...
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ManAboutForty: October 2010
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We Can Spell Semibreve. Tuesday evenings we have piano lessons, now, and I'm ready for the fight. For the eldest, piano lessons means being tutored in the essential hand-eye-ear coordination of harmonising fingers with keys, with spots on paper, with sounds of definite pitch. For dad it means being tutored in the associated, treacherous over-world of getting his budding Ingrid Fliter to her class at the appointed time. A classic old setting for the child's piano lessons, I think to myself, as I park defi...
