November usually finds me pulling down well-worn albums from the shelf. There’s one entitled ‘I dread the winter’, another is called ‘every year I find them harder’ and my all-time favourite ‘if I won the lotto I’d move abroad for 6 months’. These recordings have been passed down to me from my parents, who perhaps …
Here Comes The Wagon
The tighter the restrictions are around my feet, the further my soul yearns to travel. There was a time when I’d settle for a day out in Howth, or Bray, but I’m gone way beyond that now, I need to hug the entire Irish coastline. Mr B’s tribe were great for caravans, not in the …
