A couple of months ago, I never knew what “thistlebond” was. It’s a strange, gloopy substance, like paint that has been mixed with a generous serving of sand. It’s used in preparing walls for plastering, should they need it. Some of our new home’s walls and ceilings do, while some others have been covered with plasterboard.Continue reading “Interval”
“An mothaíonn tú uait an áit seo?”
Ceist ab ea í nach raibh mé ag súil léi. Bhí mé i mo shuí os comhair mo charad Sasanaí, i gcaifé álainn i gceartlár na dTithe Uaimh, nó Nottingham, chun an logainm is cómónta a úsáid. Bhí solas ghrian na Samhna ag líonadh an chaifé go séimh, le meascán cheol lounge agus fhíreán an mhaisín caife ar siúl sa chúlra. Ní raibh mo chara sainteach nuair a chuir sí an cheist sin orm, ach thuig sí cheana féin go raibh mé sásta le bheith ar ais ar feadh seal. Continue reading “Filleadh ar an Seanbhaile”
When I first visited Nottingham, I was smitten.
The landscape of the East Midlands, from Leicestershire to Nottinghamshire and beyond, was beautiful in my eyes. The charm of my first few visits to Nottingham would turn out to have a lasting effect on me: 18 months later, and I made the decision to join my partner in Robin Hood’s hometown, and start a new chapter of my life in this beautiful part of England. Continue reading “The Next Chapter”
For the last few weeks, I’ve started to wonder if Britain has managed to go on some tectonic exchange programme with Siberia. To leave any building with central heating is to take your life into your own hands, and you can easily practice looking into the distance with a melancholic look, like a character from The Killing. Nottingham is beautiful on a clear day – whatever the season – but when it’s grey, it’s as dull as it gets.
Still, there has been enough to keep myself active during the cold weather, although my resolution to avoid chocolate has shockingly been uninterrupted. Surely that deserves some sort of Nobel prize… Continue reading “Notes from Nottingham: Is Winter Over Yet?”
Shuí mé taobh leis an bhfuinneog, ag fanacht chun an traein a fhágáil ó stáisiún Nottingham, agus chun an turas go Londain a thosnú. I ndiaidh cúpla lá liath scamallach, bhí tráthnóna na hoíche sin go breá; ó spéir ghorm, go spéir rua, nuair a d’éirigh sé níos dorcha, le nóiméad corcra le feiceáil sa chlapsholas. Continue reading “Ag Éalú na Cathrach”