We’re watching The Crown at the moment. I’m miles behind, way back in series one, so don’t tell me what happens in the end.

I’ve googled it and I don’t think it exists yet. There are a few fictional series based on it, but not what I’m planning. I’ve threatened to make my millions a few times in this column, but this could be the one where I finally get enough money together for a shed, writes Colm O’Regan. 

REGULAR readers know this column is frequently about nothing at all, writes Colm O’Regan.

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.