Columns - Irish Examiner

Aida Austin

"It was like thrashing about all day in a swimming pool of glue"

HOME, 11pm, and my husband and I are in bed.

Sat, 08 Aug, 2015

’Never mind the tax,’ he says, ’just drive.’

IT IS the evening before my return to Ireland and I am sitting at the table in my sister’s apartment, eating Thai fish cakes with buttery green beans, and cloth table napkins.

Sat, 01 Aug, 2015

I lift up my spray gun nozzle and point it at his face

1 PM, and I’m in the shower cubicle, choking on bleach fumes; my excitement at selling the house, I think [scrub... scrub], has been worn thin [scrub... scrub] by constant cleaning.

Sat, 25 Jul, 2015

"Just look at that sky, not a single cloud in it"

London Pride, Piccadilly – and love is in the air. I can’t get away from all the affection.

Sat, 18 Jul, 2015

"It might feel sad if I hadn’t painted my eyelashes shut"

MONDAY 1.30pm: I am up a ladder, repainting the back eaves of our house, with a two litre pot of paint — and vertigo.

Sat, 11 Jul, 2015

"My sister's gentle purring ensures I remain just awake"

East London, five o’clock in the morning. I’m in a taxi, heading from my son’s house towards my sister’s apartment and, I hope, complete oblivion.

Sat, 04 Jul, 2015

’That’s a trick question. I’m a fecking writer, give me a break’

IT’S 2am, the witching hour, and I’m in London, standing in my son’s kitchen, holding a coffin-sized box of hopes and dreams; inside it are flowers which I am now going to make up into four “small, affordable, classy bouquets”.

Sat, 27 Jun, 2015

’Flower market? You’ve got the wrong place, love’

IT’S 12pm, midnight — and I’m galloping across Highbury Fields with my son towards the tube station, late for the last train because my son mislaid his wallet.

Sat, 20 Jun, 2015