Fair play to us. We do like to do our bit. The million downloads of a Covid contact-tracing app is a statement of solidarity in the fight against the virus. Also, it’s clear the Irish will go mad for free stuff. Apps, out of date Mi-Wadi, anything.

We all have our little tricks, to make ourselves feel better when times are glum. I like eating leftovers, testing loose batteries to see once and for all if the fecking things are working or not, and hiding chocolate in the hope I’ll forget I have it.

“Cmere? Are we doing the masks thing or NOT, like? What’s going on?”

I was ready to not enjoy Normal People . I don’t mean not like it or not think it was good. Just not enjoy it. In the same way I find it hard to enjoy most things made in Ireland. It’s partly jealousy.

Brexit told us that the UK history school curriculum seemed to have gaps. That there wasn’t much about the impact of their history on everyone else’s history.

I found a letter the other day. From an era known as the time of the Great Cringe. An era spanning most of the 90s where a lot of my memories just make my face fold up inside itself in such a way that it can only be coaxed out with a tweezers and patience.

Before ‘All of This’, we went to Centerparcs. It was either a few months or a decade ago. Time has no meaning since the clocks were closed.

We are told we are now in the era of the social double-bubble. Experts encourage us to metaphorically put our car keys in a bowl, pick another couple and stick to that choice. It may not be possible for everyone either through reasons of accessibility or just not really liking anyone enough to make them your Significant Other House.

It’s time to talk rot. Not rancid rot. Not breaddy rot or chickeny rot. Nice rot. Eggshells and lettuce. Potato skins. The kind of stuff that you make you say Oh instead EEEEEUUU.

Gratitude. I’m grateful I found out about it actually. I had always thought of gratitude as a sort of fuzzy nice-to-have.