FINNUALA FIESTA WAS AS UNPREDICTABLE AS THE WEATHER. You'd finally think you had the measure of her when she’d surprise you with some new change of tack. The heater
might go on the blink, the radio channels would change, or the windscreen wipers would
spring into unexpected activity. One of her favourite tricks was to give a sudden lurch that’d
drag you into the opposite lane where you could take your chances with oncoming traffic.
...continued on page 41 of The Incubator - issue 7 - December 2015
Lire en francais I booked myself a plane ticket to Amsterdam. I had been working for almost two months non-stop and needed a break from the mountain refuge. As the departure date drew closer, I felt less and less like returning to “civilization.” I didn’t want to see cars and bars. I wanted to stay in the mountains. So that’s what I did. The plane left without me. I filled my backpack with all the essentials for a trek across the mountains and walked towards the Breche, the weight on my back making my ascent slower than usual. Sparse tufts of grass grew on the frontal face of the moraine. The wind carried the roar of the waterfall from across the cirque, sounding like ever-crashing wave as it flailed and splashed its way down the face of the Marbore. I passed the widening gap in the glacier and veered away from the route, following the water that trickled over the smooth rocks to join a pool in a glacier-gouged limestone hollow. I stripped off and waded into the icy
Read this in English Cette conte est parue en deux parties dans la Revue Pyrénéenne d'octobre et decembre 2013 Cela faisait près de deux mois que je travaillais au refuge des Sarradets sans un seul jour de congé. Je ne me plaignais pas - C’était mon choix personnel et j’étais content de pouvoir travailler, mais prévoyant une pause nécessaire en milieu de saison, j'avais réservé un billet d'avion pour partir à Amsterdam. La date de départ approchant, loin d’avoir hâte de retrouver des amis aux Pays Bas je sentais de moins en moins l’envie de retourner à la "civilisation." Je ne voulais pas voir des voitures, ni passer mon temps dans des bars. Je voulais rester dans les Pyrénées. C'est donc ce que j'ai fait et l'avion est parti sans moi. J'ai rempli mon sac à dos avec tout le nécessaire pour une randonnée à travers les montagnes et je me suis dirigé vers la Brèche de Roland. J’étais rodé à cette courte montée d'environ deux cent
It's an honour to have two pieces featured in Telltale Food, an anthology of food writing that was launched last week at the 2019 George Town Literary Festival. The collection covers three years and shares many of the submissions for the Fay Khoo award. One of my stories included is called Escargots de Bourgogne and relates the pitfalls of assuming too much, whether in cooking or life, and is based on a period I spent on a tiny farm in Burgundy more than thirty years ago. The second piece is called the Taste of Paradise and is more humourous - or at least that was my intention. It is about coconuts, the salacious advertisements that used to feature on Irish television when I was a teenager in the 1980s, and my now regular consumption of coconuts as a staple of the tropical life I've been leading for the last 15 years. The launch was great fun and all the contributors present received chopsticks and metal straws and copies of the book and the talented Foo May Lyn trea