The ‘moving house with a 2-month-old’ experiment

Things I owned on moving into my last flat in Dublin: One very large grey suitcase, full of clothes. A couple of boxes of books and other mementos from my time in Mozambique. A bicycle. A digital piano. Prints from an an artist in Nambia (1 framed, 1 unframed) and a painting of a fat…

Town mouse, country mouse

I am country mouse. I work to the sound of birdsong instead of a seagull pecking at my window sill.  I make calls outside the house because the reception inside the house is disastrous, and the person on the other end asks, distractedly, surprised "Is that birds in the background?" I fancy she imagines me…

The great escape

I quit my job. I said goodbye to the city. Goodbye to the cosy familiarity of work colleagues and the regular coffee spots. Goodbye to the ocasional lunchtime in Merrion Square or Stephen’s Green, to running to Marks and Spencers or Grafton St on my lunchbreak. Leaving my spot in the swell of people moving…