I did my Leaving Cert when I was sixteen years old, and I did reasonably well. Not as well as I should have, mind, what with having the motivation of a large, moss-infected boulder, but …

The Late Late Toy Show is on tonight. It is a truth I wish people would pay heed to that Christmas ads, trees, ditties and shopping trips are only acceptable after its broadcast; the Toy …

It seems that the latest craze is writing letters to your 16-year-old self, full to the chunkies with insight, compassion, and the kind of sarcasm that’s ever-so-subtly poignant and has the ould tears globbing like …

As it’s Builders’ Holidays in Ireland at the moment (a nationally-recognised breather for those of us in the construction industry; that should give you some clue as to how engrained the practise of throwing together …

Had I foreseen that “clairvoyance” would never be my most admired skill, I would have stopped putting it on my c.v. years ago. Hindsight is a fine(r) thing.

The school year is over. MiniMe prepares for second class. I start clearing the bank account of the non-essentials – direct debits, loan repayments, sponsorship for blind orphaned cripples in Bangladesh – in preparation for …

We was tough as teenagers, me and mah girlies. We was ruthless, sassy, cool – the Pink Ladies crossed with a collaboration of frustrated crocodiles.