It may surprise you to know that these columns sometimes are a bit of a struggle to write. I know! You’d be thinking - surely there can’t be much skill required in horsing out 600 words off the top of one’s head on a topic you’ve no formal qualifications to write about?

THEY say that music hath the power to soothe the savage breast. 

LOGOS. They’re everywhere. We take them for granted. But as soon as you change them ... well, be prepared for a backlash.

I’VE been doing a good bit of driving this past while, chiefly the Cork-Dublin-Cork-Dublin road. The bit of my elbow between the ‘elbone’ and the funny bone has taken on the shape of the sill of the driver’s door. The floor is covered in Double Decker wrappers.

THE bank queue is getting restless. It soon becomes apparent that the woman at the counter has a complicated arrangement. The staff member she was dealing with has left to go off into the mysterious back of the bank.

What does the word legacy mean to you, asks Colm O’Regan

I have in my possession a ‘Busy at Maths 5’ primary school text book, writes Colm O’Regan

YOU’VE rolled your eyes when he began to assemble his gear. You’ve cursed him. You may even have just left the pub altogether. But spare a thought for him, in the corner of the pub, plugging in leads and setting up stands, a forced smile on his face: The Man With The Keyboard.

Last week’s column explored what happens just before you go away on holiday. Now you’re back. Prepare for misery. It starts with the alarm. During holidays you bounced out of bed before the alarm, in the cool dawn as you went on a life-changing trek through the bush to watch gorillas, or buy fresh bread from the friendly twirly moustachioed boulanger.