Bloomsday, though internationally famous today, has some surprising origins.
A Potted History of Bloomsday
An Evening With Joyce: Celebrate With Us
Join us on October 20 at 7pm at Crazy Mary Librería (c/Echegaray, 32) and say you went to the first edition of a future classic in the Madrid scene.
The Joyce Miscellany: Sport, Food & Emigration
James Joyce explored many facets of the human experience and he wanted to represent the minutiae of everyday Dublin life.
The Incredible Story of Joyce & Dancing
For me, I always imagine Joyce’s spectacles. And a hat. Next, in this subliminal carousel of images and influences, is Nora, walking, passionate letters and the European continent. So, imagine my surprise when dancing – dancing! – entered the mix.
The Ember Months: Hiberno-English in Europe
Any listener of the excellent Something Rhymes with Purple – a podcast about strange and forgotten words – will know that language can be a laughing matter. The two presenters, an endearing […]
Eamon de Valera & Comely Maidens Bellydancing At The Crossroads
I filmed a performance of Bollywood and Belly dancing, with a mixture of Irish dancing, recently, and it got me thinking about the deep connection between Ireland and India.
The Pigs Are Dead: Hipster Sausages
Hipster sausages, hipster prices – it’s all food for thought. Excuse me dear, I’m hungry tonight. Leopold Bloom, Ulysses.
The Pigs Are Dead
Excuse me dear, I’m hungry tonight. Leopold Bloom, Ulysses.
Satori Identity Explorer/What I learned about travelling from Jack Kerouac
Satori identity. This was an alien concept to me, until I came across Kerouac. Jack Kerouac’s book Satori in Paris is a tangled mess of ideas, references and internalized in-jokes, which is to […]
Satori: Identity Explorer/What I learned about travelling from Jack Kerouac
Jack Kerouac’s book Satori in Paris is a tangled mess of ideas, references and internalized in-jokes, which is to say, in-jokes he shares with himself, rather than with a drinking buddy or cabal of […]
Summer 1969: Seamus Heaney in Madrid
It was by pressing hard against a pen, and not guitar strings, that his fingers bled.
Ireland & Spain in Myth
My journey into our shared past began with a poem.
Irish Slice of Madrid 