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.

AUGUST is the beginning of the middle age of summer. 

SCIENTIFIC breakthroughs don’t always grab the attention they deserve. They are often in esoteric areas of speciality and it’s difficult for us plebs to understand their importance.

A West Cork town is set to be invaded by guitar lovers when it hosts a star-studded festival featuring some of the greatest foot-stompin’, fingerpicking, head-banging, eye-catching exponents of the art.

IT was 1980s TV star, Bosco, who first said it.

The press-ups and sit-ups are back, Accompanied this time by a kettle bell. (A kettle bell is a type of weight in case you thought it was an alarm clock to tell you the tea was ready. It was bought in Lidl in the same kind of impulse buy that caused you to buy that generator.)

Colm O’Regan explains why he has found peace in a recycling centre

WE’RE coming up to our fifth anniversary. It’s been tough, but, looking back, I think we can both say it was worth it. Obviously, you give up a lot, but if you work hard at it, you can make your new life. Next month will mark five years without a television.

Occasionally, when it seems that things are going not too bad, I like to try and imagine Ireland being invaded, says Colm O’Regan.