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
Excuse me dear, I’m hungry tonight. Leopold Bloom, Ulysses.
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.
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 […]
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 […]
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 