Tag Archives: Irish fiction

I’m nearly too tired to kill myself, I think, and erupt into a wave of giggles and sniggers. I can see each convulsion of breath adding to the fuzz of condensation on the car’s windscreen. The whiskey fumes (with strong … Continue reading →

To write notes or not to write notes, that is the question. I am very tempted to pen an explanation/exculpation/vindication of my actions to my nearest and dearest and pop them in the post when I land in Glasgow. But … Continue reading →

It’s the last language group meeting, my last night with Ruth. No one else shows up, of course. As has become the norm, we hang around the school until a quarter past the hour, bid our slán leats to Principal … Continue reading →

I am desperate to see Ruth. The combination of stunted voyeurism and alcohol has made me randy and needy in equal measures, and her company would douse the flames of both emotions. Language group isn’t until tomorrow night and I … Continue reading →

It was pure luck that Shell didn’t catch me that morning. But I certainly caught her! And boy was I surprised! It had been a comfortingly unremarkable morning up until that point. No black out. Very little pain. Affect: middling … Continue reading →