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DUBLIN MADE ME…
Grey brick upon brick, Declamatory bronze On sombre pedestals – O’Connell, Grattan, Moore – And the brewery tugs and the swans On the balustraded stream And the bare bones of a fanlight Over a hungry door And the air soft on the cheek And porter running from the taps With a head of yellow cream And Nelson on his pillar Watching his world collapse. Dublin by Louis MacNeice I’m not really the sort of person who raves about his city or country. Largely because to a certain extent I believe where you’re born is pretty random when you think of all the decisions your parents made that led to the happenstance that dictated where your mother was when you were born. An example would be the fact that my parents planned to emigrate to the UK during…
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WHO AM I?
Not that you dear reader have done anything wrong to deserve this momentary interlude during which I intend to let slip the curtain and ‘expose’ my inner me and set forth my manifesto to boot, but let’s face it it takes a certain amount of ego to release upon an unsuspecting blogosphere regular rantings about items that really only seem important to me (sometimes only mildly at that). The Ego has Landed you might quite rightly think. In a previously undeleted manifestation in cyberspace I described myself as “Middle aged and proud of the achievement. Working in Adult & Community Education for decades. Expanding my knowledge base but not at the same fantastic rate as my waistline. Trying to leave a record of my existence, like a tattoo on the blogosphere, before the Grim Reaper comes a calling.…
