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On 15th July - if you’re free and in London - I’m interviewing Christopher Steele, former head of Russia desk for the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), on his recent book Unredacted (HarperCollins). I promise a discussion that will leave you shaken and stirred.

Happy hot dogs day, from Dublin. Toasting America and its better angels, never altogether vanished, from across the Atlantic on #4thofJuly. With juice, and stout, and the civil rights songs of Nina Simone. The sausage from Hick's Dun Laoghaire was an utter Oscar wiener. 🌭🥳

15th July. We could tell ya but we’d have tequila.

Westminster Strategic Studies Group I'll be doing this, in London, in between two afternoons coaching sprints and hurdles in west Dublin...which come to think of it, could be practically useful getting through the airports. 🛫 🚧🏃

Someday, people won’t talk about the Ship of Theseus, it’ll be Daft Punk instead

Last week - drink may have been had - I found myself saying ‘you must now hear about Harry Clarke, this mad ultra-late Arts and Crafts figure from my country who decided to do William Morris but in stained glass’. And looking up at several only partially impressed girls.

I gatecrashed an Orange parade once.  Was slinking across the Monaghan border to go to Donegal, the border was closed but a couple of PSNI told me I could drive through if I promised not to do a sectarianism. So I inched down Aughnacloy high street waving to everyone, while my

17 weeks to NYC so am slowly getting back to the woody mountain trails that hug Dublin, running with pencil to catch any poetry that comes to me. Before last London marathon, my (lovely, gay) flatmates for some reason thought it hilarious when I reappeared screaming ‘quickly,

We are one week into summer holidays, and I have just tried hiring my children out as extras in a mediaeval destruction film

Back to basics - long slow distance for the Irish writer (and ultra late modernist)

Deirdre FORDE Every SINGLE time I end up somewhere vaguely Loyalist in the North, I too late realise past me -who is a bastard - decided to pull together a very green outfit off the floordrobe in Dublin in the dark.