Amazed by the calamitous fall from grace of the man riding the dead horse, of whom I had never heard, up to now. Can’t understand the nation grinding to a halt over this deceased equine, it’s not like the horse was a family member. It was a working asset.
Watching theSinead O’Carroll on Virgin’s breakfast show. She says her outing to the Virgin studios is the only time she’ll leave her house this week. Astonishing.
Apropos last night’son illegal adoptions, imagine this. A TD comes to another TD with a problem. The second TD is a doctor and future minister for health. The first, non-doctor TD has a girl working for him and his wife who’s become pregnant by her useless boyfriend and is gone off to look after an aunt in England.
The director of theputs me on the air to Maura and Daithí despite my Skype failing, for which I am inordinately grateful until I catch a glimpse of myself. This is never fun, because of the witchy look the long hair delivers, but today is worse than usual, because it seemed like a good idea to add logs to the stove I sit in front of during the broadcast, so as to cook dinner in it at the same time. It was not a good idea. The heat makes me look parboiled.
It doesn’t get much attention, but one of the best things in the UK’s Rishi Sunak’s budget is a life-long commitment to Britain’s thalidomide survivors. These are the folk, now in their 60s, born with missing or misplaced limbs because their mothers were prescribed a new wonder drug.
Lots of coverage, this week, about it being a full year since the coronavirus flattened our lives. Pakistani, Filipino, and Indian doctors and nurses don’t figure much in that coverage. In their thousands, they have done the State a hell of a service, but ‘frontline’ tends to be taken as meaning ‘white’.
Máire Geoghegan-Quinn becomes chair of NUIG. Great appointment of a brilliant, ruthless, impatient agent of change.