It’s a shameless heart-string tugger at times. I don’t care. When the craggy loveable oldish guy started crying while saying goodbye to the five mentors in episode 1, I was snotting like a toddler, writes Colm O’Regan. 

My dating days are long behind me so I don’t get many opportunities to be stood up. Except in one area: Selling second-hand stuff online, writes Colm O’Regan

Inniscarra Dramatic Society was putting on a production of… well no one is clear to this day what it was. They hired a man called Suni to teach some singing and dancing for a variety show, writes Colm O’Regan

The 1987 snow ruined me. Because it raised expectations that there would be similar snow every year. But most snows since then have been, quite frankly, crap, writes Colm O’Regan

Liam Ruiséals: I’m sad it’s going. It was the school books that got me in and then the exam papers. Round about September, the booklets of past Junior Cert and Leaving Cert papers would take over a section in the corner, says Colm O’Regan

You can’t go to a conference now without someone putting up on a big screen some variation of the idea that “most of the jobs of the future haven’t been invented yet”.

My vital signs are showing good numbers, says Colm O’Regan. 

It’s the time of year when a no-longer-young man’s heart turns to writing a column about trying to take up running again, writes Colm O’Regan.

Like all the best Irish antiquarian sites, there’s very little brouhaha about it on the road, writes Colm O’Regan.

I don’t think the Roman alphabet has the guttural sounds available for it. Maybe it was lost along the way in the evolution from the Indo European steppe.