Long straight hair, she always had, so when we met for lunch after the chemo, it was time to do a double-take and laugh at the tight fuzzy curls framing her thinner face. She had always been pretty. Now, she was beautiful. She looked like a new woman.
“Nobody ever told me chemo could make your hair curly,” she said, touching it uneasily, as if it might fall out again.
Considering the probability of a move to level 3, I check whether house arrest for the over 70s will be lifted. “Personal responsibility,” it says.
Which feels like they can’t make us behave, but they figure we’re too scared to make a mad foray into virus-sharing places.
Talking to Kieran Cuddihy on the Thursday Interview on, I am brought up short when he asks me what a prompter is. I explain that, as a member of the Abbey Theatre School of Acting, I served my time in the wings with a tiny lamp focused on the script of whatever was the play that night, ready for the moment when an actor “dried”.
Drying, Josephine Tey once observed, was most likely to happen in a long-running play where it’s possible to say the lines while working out what reasonably fresh food might be in the actor’s home.
Just as the house/food issue sorts itself, the actor finds themselves on stage in front of 600 people, facing another actor with an expectant expression and no clue what is the line due at that moment to issue from their own mouth.
That’s when the prompter hisses the right line. The actor picks up seamlessly and the play moves on.
I log on to a Zoom meeting with a bunch of deadly impressive experts just as the fire alarm goes off.
I yell apologies, open all windows and flail with a tea towel at the ceiling thing making the racket until it shuts up. It’s difficult to be impressive, after a start like that.
Trinity College is going to commission four busts of women for their beautiful Old Library, which, over its 280 years, has displayed forty busts, none of women. Pats on the back to TCD for corrective action.
And the good news? Today, Amazon ran out of the ugliest garment ever made. The Dryrobe.
We pray it doesn’t — like the dead mink in Denmark — start rising out of its grave. Although, given a choice between a putrid mink and a Dryrobe, I’d opt for the mink.