MY mother says: “Colm, there’s a letter here for you”. For me? At this address? When you move out of home, you gradually shake off the traces of the first phase of your life.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood/... I took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference.

POOR Amendment 35. Before we move on in the new post-marriage referendum Ireland, spare a thought for the ‘Presidential Age’ one.

The crowd is silent, expectant. All eyes are on the stage, on me. I take a breath and say it:

I don’t know if I could handle ‘epic everything’. There are times you just want to sit down and put on your slippers writes Colm O’Regan.

WHAT are we if we’re not our stories? — so went the ubiquitous radio ad earlier in the year. It was for a play — the Walworth Farce, also known as ‘The Play With All The Gleesons In It’. Cork people cringed when they heard the ad.

BY this time of year they were dog-eared. Full of scribbles. The first one you had attempted, months ago, had seemed so simple and trivial. You had bigger fish/questions to fry/answer.

I first became aware of blame when I was young. My introduction to it was benign.

PREDICTING the future is a mug’s game. In fact, we don’t know if there’ll even be mugs. Whatever happens, over the coming decades, billions of people will arrive on planet Earth — and they’ll have to be given something to do to occupy their time. This has happened many times before. 

WE ARE in a brave new world. The milk quota is gone. The dairy industry is now in the unusual situation of being asked to make all it can.