#Maidin City

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[corkcitylibraries]

Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar interviews Michelle Delea

When did you start writing poetry?

I started writing about eight years ago, though I was slow to call it poetry. My perception of poetry then was almost entirely informed by the Leaving Cert syllabus, when all great poets lived in back-breaking books and their poems like fossils we would speculate on. Poetry always had magic around it, it was something to behold rather than to produce.

I fell in love with words through songs. I remember the thrill of lapping through CD sleeves full of lyrics in the 90s, when you would feel honoured to have access to words. Years later, at Livestyles hip-hop festival in the Pav, I met a young writer who showed me how accessible poetry really is, how alive it is in Cork and how healthy it is as a tool of expression. At the same time I discovered Ó Bhéal at the Long Valley, I was allured by this community and it’s gently kept my writing consistent ever since.

  Does the creative process of writing affect your mood and how?

Writing is a very peaceful process. You can and ought to be more honest with yourself than with anyone, and writing creates time for you to practise this honesty. In my experience, this can be intimidating and even off-putting at times. The reward of defining a poem in this space can be very liberating. It’s a process which makes me feel more self-aware and ultimately more calm.

  Where do you seek inspiration from?

As my career is in architecture, I am always inspired by my environment. I am constantly observing Cork: imagining maps and measuring with eyes, noting the time of light on different windows, recitements of the local body language. Artists have always been stimulated by a landscape they can engage with, and this city is always reliable for that. I am equally inspired by us: our stripped-down interactions, the privacy of our relationships and the purity of communication.

  What advice would you give to someone just starting to write?

Allow yourself to daydream more often, and every now and then, try to put it into words. Try not to hide behind abstractions. If you have one line to start from, get it down and trust that the rest will flow. After you’ve developed an enjoyment with the process, you will feel more confident to write on any subject. And of course, if you live in Cork, come along to Ó Bhéal.

  What book would you recommend to our readers?

Jun’ichirō Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows (1933) is a staple book of beauty that I often return to. It meditates on Japanese aesthetics in a way that never really leaves you. It has inspired my architectural work, poetry, painting and general perception of objects.

Doireann Ní Ghríofa’s A Ghost in the Throat (2020) was a special read for me this year. I found myself overwhelmed by the female force throughout, illustrated by the rawness of motherhood and her obsessive pursuit to flesh out historic poet Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill.

  Sinking You

Undersea There are mountains And you can float to their peaks

 They will pass you up Where we break the glass With naked bodies

 Where only starlight Strikes chopped water Drying out and dripping

 Clung to your shoulder You are wrapped in ocean And these arms gone cold

 The moon itself kisses The milky hill of your eye Its light is low and creeps

 Beneath your roofing lashes Arrives at welcome doors I follow it in

 Where wind is hasty and Giddy and races through Your unbrushed hair

 Like you were a forest It grew up playing in And your limbs tire

 From staying afloat You tilt away Lying weightless

 In my open palms You request I hold You by the head

 Not to take the weight From your neck But the pace

 From your Thinking, you say: Cradle me better

Cradle me sinking Cradle me back To thinking nice things

  Lón

Níor itheas pioc,  faic na fríde,  ón uair eirí ar maidin. 

Ná bí buartha  fúm, a stór,  tá an chistin lán go béal. 

Lán d’arán ‘s im,  ‘s d’fhan an bainne   ina shuí,  mil i bpróca leis. 

Fáinne drithlí,  líocha beo,  corcra-gorm ón ngás. 

Dheineas téamh ar   Chorcán iarainn, ansin, chas gealacán an uibhe bán.  

Chaitheas glasraí  scaipeas smut suibhe,  ciste te i dtaisce leo. 

Dheineas snaois de  ghráinne piobair,  breicní blasta os mo chomhair. 

Thit salann chomh bog le sneachta lasmuigh,  ar bhia  scamallach ón ngal. 

Leáigh siad, iad réidh  iad úr, shuigh mé.  Leag mé an pláta anuas, 

Idir forc agus scian.  Ní raibh blas agam as.  Criotheadh an ciarsúr   san aer mar bhrat.

  Michelle Delea is a multi-disciplinary creative from Cork City. She has been a regular contributor to Cork artist collectives, which have featured her poetry, performance art and choreography. She has an MA in Architecture from CCAE and currently works with a local architectural firm. Michelle has performed at multiple events including Voulmentin Literary Festival, Shannonside Festival, Townlands, Electric Picnic and Live @ St.Lukes during Cork Midsummer Festival. She is a recent reciprocate of the Art Council’s Engaging with Architecture award. Michelle is an advocator of collaboration and maintains an experimental approach to the arts.

[tadghpairceir]

Open to anyone at the Dublin Lattice Stop in the early morning.

Tadgh sat quietly watching the early morning sun golden up and peak over the Adler trees. There was a lot on his mind, more than usual as he’d just come from the cemetery to trading out another bit of sea glass left atop his family’s headstones for one he’d deemed better... Dublin was his usual morning stop now, as he left Malmö for either Los Angeles or New York City for work. The stop was usually empty but as he checked the time and started to head underground to the train he heard footsteps and greeted them, “Maidin mhaith”

[sceaweretemp]

ar maidin | alfie solomons

my first ever fic has found a new home here

based on my headcanon that alfie never fucking sleeps until he just conks out at his desk

he is the odd nap king

Camden didn’t have a cycle to the day and night so much as it had disorienting, sudden switchovers. There was the bustle of work in the day, the burst of fun in the evening, the outright chaos of the night. There was never really a lull, except a clear hour before the dawn when everything seemed to stop. Too late for revellers, too early for workers, peace found a home here, nestled up to the buildings and slumbered.

You should have been slumbering too, wrapped up in the outrageously expensive sheets Alfie insisted on but never fucking slept in. Yet here you were, heels clacking down the damp steps of a goddamn illegal distillery.

The bakery was near pitch black underneath, the lamps off or burnt out. The light coming from the office tucked against the back wall threw everything into relief and made you squint, hands coming to rub tired eyes. Why couldn’t you just love some normal boring office boy? A gasp of a laugh came from you at the thought and only grew when you saw Ollie tucked up in a huddle outside the office.

Back to the wall, knees to his chest, leaning against a barrel with his head back and mouth open. A gentle kick to his leg did little to rouse him, casting a look to your side to see Alfie bent over the desk inside. Another kick.

“Ollie”

Another.

“Ollie!”

He jumped awake, hand swinging out to grab a weapon that wasn’t there.

“It’s just me”

A sleepy grumble, hands trailing over eyes.

“What time is it?”

“God knows, late…early. Get yourself off home, I’ll get someone in to cover you tomorrow. Today. Fuck it, I dunno, just go”

“No, I’ll go when Alfie does”

“Awww, Ollie, that’s sweet. Now piss off. Seriously. Get gone”

He pulled himself up, all gangly limbs and sleep filled, like a baby animal trying to right itself for the first time. He cast a look through the window too, turned to you with uncertain eyes, and then saw himself off into the shadows. Whether Alfie liked to acknowledge it in public or not, you were as much the boss as he was now, and Ollie at least knew how to pick his battles by now.

The office was warm and bright in comparison to the warehouse, almost cosy in its close air and dimmed lamps scattered around like stars in a constellation.

“Alfie”

He was studying multiple ledgers, scratching away at columns and numbers, a jumble only he could decipher.

“Alfie-“

“Ollie!” he bellowed off into the darkness and you felt almost hungover in your drowsy state, the noise rattling around your skull.

“I sent him home”

His brow furrowed for a moment, continuing away at his scratch, before his hand stilled and he looked up at you.

“You did what?”

“He was sleeping outside the door like a bloody puppy, Alfie. It’s ain’t right”

“He was where I needed him”

“Alfie, when’s the last time you slept?”

He pulled his face into an expression that read ‘stupid fucking question’ and went back to scratching at numbers.

“Right, get up”

You set about turning the lamps off, lowering the light in the room until only his desk lamp was illuminated.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, darlin’?”

“I-“you marched over to him, snatching the pencil from his hand and chucking it off somewhere across the desk. He made a noise at you, watching it fly away. “Am making sure you get some goddamn sleep”

“I’m fine, I am, sweetie, I promise”

“You haven’t been back to the house in 2 days, napping in your chair for 20 minutes in between threatening people isn’t healthy, Alfie”

You perched yourself on the armrest of his chair, bringing your arms around him and leaning your forehead against the side of his head.

“I miss you”

He sighed, bringing one hand up to wrap around your forearm, his rings glinting in the low light.

“I need to get these books done”

“You have a fucking accountant. I know, I sort out his pay stubs”

“I like doing ‘em myself, I like-“

“Being a bloody control freak, I know” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his scruff scratching against your chin.

“Careful”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? I’d be surprised if you had the energy”

You felt him smile against you as you nuzzled your nose into his cheek.

“Although, if you were to come home, we have this giant bed…”

He grunted at your teasing tone and you trailed your hand up the side of his neck. His hand clenched around your arm and you thought for a second he might try to pull you into his lap.

“That we could just…conk the fuck out in. I mean, honestly just, be unconscious for days”

You pulled yourself back to sit straight on the armrest, looking at his with tongue in cheek, eyebrows raised.

His expression made you laugh out loud and swipe your hand back over his cheek, thumb tracing the shadows around his eyes.

“Mmmm…grumpy Alfie needs a nap”

“I will fucking shoot you, woman”

“No you fucking won’t” you pushed your hands down on his shoulders to steady yourself and swung yourself round to stand in front of his chair, blocking his view of the ledgers.

“Get up, I’m taking you home”

He slumped back in the chair, dimming eyes staring back at you.

“What? What’s that look?”

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Looking after me”

“Oh piss off, you sap. Get your fine fucking arse out of that chair before I tie you to the goddamn couch already”

His eyebrows raised at that, a sleepy smirk crawling over his face.

“We’re not fucking over the desk again, I nearly broke a rib last time, I swear to God, Alfie”

“You were fine” He heaved himself out of the chair with a groan, wincing and rubbing both hands over his hair. You flicked the lamp off and pushed away from the desk.

“God, I love such an old man”

“Yeah, yeah” he waved you off as you went over to retrieve his coat from where he’d chucked it on the seat next to the doorway. You could see him storming into the room, probably screaming at some poor lackey, chucking shit all over the place and then complaining to Ollie when he couldn’t find it again.

“It’s my sciatica, ain’t it, always fucking plays up when-“he started mumbling to himself, flicking bits of paper around the desk.

“Your keys are here, love” you dangled them over your finger, leaning against the doorframe, and waited for him to amble over to you. He retrieved them with a scowl, fitting them in the lock before taking his coat from you.

“And if you slept in a proper bed once in a while, your back might be a little better”

“I’m going aren’t I, yeah, do you see me leaving the office?”

“I see you”

He closed up the office, tugged his coat on, realised he’d left his hat and cane, unlocked the office, locked it again and then swung his arm around you. You stumbled off into the shadows together, and you realised as you went that you were making a slow march towards the light at the end of a fucking tunnel.

“How d’ya get here? If you were walking round the city by yourself-“

“I got my bodyguard to drive me, given that I have one of them now”

“I like knowing you’re safe”

The sharp ring of his cane against the damp floor punctuated the journey the rest of the way as you climbed up into the dawn together. By the time you made it up, the sky was tinging pinker and a few people were dotted around, shifting shapes in the distance, rising as you fell. You leaned further into Alfie’s side and savoured the warmth of him, lips pressed against your temple.

Once your guard/chauffeur came into sight he pulled away a little, releasing you enough for you to climb into the car, hand swatting lazily at your bum as you bent into the seat.

“I’m having you over that desk again”

“Alfie!”

“What?” his goddamn smirk as he crawled in after you, slouching back against the seat, half out of it already. The guard kept his head down and set off, driving you closer and closer to the big bed with the silky sheets and hopefully a few days of bloody peace.

You leant back against his shoulder, hand scratching at eyes as the growing sun stung at them, before you whispered.

“Only if I get to tie you to that bloody couch”

[sceawere]

ar maidin | alfie solomons

Built around my headcanon that Alfie never goddamn sleeps, someone save this man and bring him some warm milk and a blanket already.

Camden didn’t seem to have a cycle to the day and night so much as it had disorienting, sudden switch-overs. There was the bustle of work in the day, the burst of fun in the evening, the outright chaos of the night. There was never really a lull, except a clear hour before the dawn when everything seemed to stop. Too late for revellers, too early for workers, peace found a home here, nestled up to the buildings and slumbered.

You should have been slumbering too, wrapped up in the outrageously expensive sheets Alfie insisted on but never actually seemed to sleep in. Yet here you were, heels clacking down the damp steps of an illegal distillery.

The ‘bakery’ was near pitch black underneath, the lamps off or burnt out. The light coming from the office tucked against the back wall threw everything into relief and made you squint, hands coming to rub tired eyes. Why couldn’t you just love some normal boring office boy? A gasp of a laugh came from you at the thought and only grew when you saw Ollie tucked up in a huddle outside the office.

Back to the wall, knees to his chest, leaning against a barrel with his head back and mouth open. A gentle kick to his leg did little to rouse him, casting a look to your side to see Alfie bent over the desk inside. Another kick.

“Ollie”

Another.

“Ollie!”

He jumped awake, hand swinging out to grab a weapon that wasn’t there.

“It’s just me”

A sleepy grumble, hands trailing over eyes.

“What time is it?”

“God knows, late…early. Get yourself off home, I’ll get someone in to cover you tomorrow. Today. Fuck it, I dunno, just go”

“No, I’ll go when Alfie does”

“Awww, Ollie, that’s sweet. Now piss off. Seriously. Get gone”

He pulled himself up, all gangly limbs and sleep filled, like a baby animal trying to right itself for the first time. He cast a look through the window too, turned to you with uncertain eyes, and then saw himself off into the shadows. Whether Alfie liked to acknowledge it in public or not, you were as much the boss as he was now, and Ollie at least knew how to pick his battles by now.

The office was warm and bright in comparison to the warehouse, almost cosy in its close air and dimmed lamps scattered around like stars in a constellation.

“Alfie”

He was studying multiple ledgers, scratching away at columns and numbers, a jumble only he could decipher.

“Alfie-“

“Ollie!” he bellowed off into the darkness and you felt almost hungover in your drowsy state, the noise rattling around your skull.

“I sent him home”

His brow furrowed for a moment, continuing away at his scratch, before his hand stilled and he looked up at you.

“You did what?”

“He was sleeping outside the door like a bloody puppy, Alfie. It’s ain’t right”

“He was where I needed him”

“Alfie, when’s the last time you slept?”

He pulled his face into an expression that read ‘stupid fucking question’ and went back to scratching at numbers.

“Right, get up”

You set about turning the lamps off, lowering the light in the room until only his desk lamp was illuminated.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, darlin’?”

“I-“you marched over to him, snatching the pencil from his hand and chucking it off somewhere across the desk. He made a noise at you, watching it fly away. “Am making sure you get some goddamn sleep”

“I’m fine, I am, sweetie, I promise”

“You haven’t been back to the house in 2 days, napping in your chair for 20 minutes in between threatening people isn’t healthy, Alfie”

You perched yourself on the armrest of his chair, bringing your arms around him and leaning your forehead against the side of his head.

“I miss you”

He sighed, bringing one hand up to wrap around your forearm, his rings glinting in the low light.

“I need to get these books done”

“You have a fucking accountant for that. I know, I sort out his pay stubs”

“I like doing ‘em myself, I like-“

“Being a bloody control freak, I know” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his scruff scratching against your chin.

“Careful”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? I’d be surprised if you had the energy”

You felt him smile against you as you nuzzled your nose into his cheek.

“Although, if you were to come home, we have this giant bed…”

He grunted at your teasing tone and you trailed your hand up the side of his neck. His hand clenched around your arm and you thought for a second he might try to pull you into his lap.

“That we could just…conk the fuck out in. I mean, honestly just, be unconscious for days”

You pulled yourself back to sit straight on the armrest, looking at him with tongue in cheek, eyebrows raised.

His expression made you laugh out loud and swipe your hand back over his cheek, thumb tracing the shadows around his eyes.

“Mmmm…grumpy Alfie needs a nap”

“I will fucking shoot you, woman”

“No you fucking won’t” you pushed your hands down on his shoulders to steady yourself and swung yourself round to stand in front of his chair, blocking his view of the ledgers.

“Get up, I’m taking you home”

He slumped back in the chair, dimming eyes staring back at you.

“What? What’s that look?”

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Looking after me”

“Oh piss off, you sap. Get your fine fucking arse out of that chair before I tie you to the goddamn couch already”

His eyebrows raised at that, a sleepy smirk crawling over his face.

“We’re not fucking over the desk again, I nearly broke a rib last time, I swear to God, Alfie”

“You were fine” He heaved himself out of the chair with a groan, wincing and rubbing both hands over his hair. You flicked the lamp off and pushed away from the desk.

“God, I love such an old man”

“Yeah, yeah” he waved you off as you went over to retrieve his coat from where he’d chucked it on the seat next to the doorway. You could see him storming into the room, probably screaming at some poor lackey, chucking shit all over the place and then complaining to Ollie when he couldn’t find it again.

“It’s my sciatica, ain’t it, always fucking plays up when-“he started mumbling to himself, flicking bits of paper around the desk.

“Your keys are here, love” you dangled them over your finger, leaning against the doorframe, and waited for him to amble over to you. He retrieved them with a scowl, fitting them in the lock before taking his coat from you.

“And if you slept in a proper bed once in a while, your back might be a little better”

“I’m going aren’t I, yeah, do you see me leaving the office?”

“I see you”

He closed up the office, tugged his coat on, realised he’d left his hat and cane, unlocked the office, locked it again and then swung his arm around you. You stumbled off into the shadows together, and you realised as you went that you were making a slow march towards the light at the end of a fucking tunnel.

“How d’ya get here? If you were walking round the city by yourself-“

“I got my bodyguard to drive me, given that I have one of them now”

“I like knowing you’re safe”

The sharp ring of his cane against the damp floor punctuated the journey the rest of the way as you climbed up into the dawn together. By the time you made it up, the sky was tinging pinker and a few people were dotted around, shifting shapes in the distance, rising as you fell. You leaned further into Alfie’s side and savoured the warmth of him, lips pressed against your temple.

Once your guard/chauffeur came into sight he pulled away a little, releasing you enough for you to climb into the car, hand swatting lazily at your bum as you bent into the seat.

“I’m having you over that desk again”

“Alfie!” You swung round to face him, eyes flicking between the driver and him.

“What?” his goddamn smirk as he crawled in after you, slouching back against the seat, half out of it already. The guard kept his head down and set off, driving you closer and closer to the big bed with the silky sheets and hopefully a few days of bloody peace.

You leant back against his shoulder, hand scratching at eyes as the growing sun stung at them, before you whispered.

“Only if I get to tie you to that bloody couch”

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

#OTD in 1689 – Siege of Derry began.

In 1685, the Roman Catholic James II came to the throne of England. His agent Richard Talbot, earl of Tyrconnell, started to dismiss Protestant officers from the army in Ireland, replacing them with Roman Catholics. For English Protestants, the last straw came when the birth of a son to his second wife meant that his Protestant daughter Mary would not succeed to the throne. In the summer of 1688,…

[sceawere]

an oíche | alfie solomons/shelby!reader

set after ‘ar maidin’ and ‘truce’

@collecting-stories

“We’re going to freeze to death”

“Alfie, please shut the fuck up, my love”

“We are going to freeze to death, yeah?” he took pauses between each set of words, staring into the fire in front of the wagon.

“We’re not going to freeze to death, you’re being a baby”

“How the fuck do you live in these things? I mean, honestly, I want to know, how generations have survived living feral like this”

“We’re not fucking feral you dick”

You punched his arm before shuffling closer to him and snuggling into his side, wrapping the edges of your shawl around as much of him as you could. He’d had a permanent scowl on his face for hours now, ever since you’d had the car pull in to the field at the back of Tommy’s place and set off for the group of wagons parked there.

“The fuck is happening here, love?”

“Come on, I’m staying here tonight”

“No, we’re staying at the big house, you said”

“Nooooo, I said we were going to the big house, not staying in it”

“Right well that’s lying then isn’t it? You lied to me”

“No, I simply didn’t provide additional information, it’s not my fault if you forgot to clarify”

He planted his cane and stared you down.

“This is retaliation, isn’t it? For the gy-“

“Ah ah ah, Alfie, you can’t say that remember? We have a contract, one you tried to void”

“I wasn’t going to say it, was I? You didn’t let me finish, you have no bloody faith in me, sweetheart”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, the breeze grasping onto the strands of your hair and dancing them over your face.

“I’m not staying in a gypsy camp, sweetheart, I’m just not”

“Right well, have fun sleeping alone in a house full of Shelby’s then”

You walked over to him, planted a big kiss on his cheek, and made back off into the field without a second look. He grumbled behind you, debating his options, which idea he hated more. You kept the smile on your face imagining the expression on his face as he called your name behind you.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Say I were to come and spend some time with your…lovely gypsy family over there” he gestured with a vague wave and you cocked a hip, your hands finding a spot on each side, “would I be able to convince you, to make a deal, in which we then move to the big house what your cousin lives in. With the walls, and the, plumbing and that?”

You took in then let out a deep dramatic breath, running your eyes over the horizon and drawing out his torment.

“No, I don’t think so, I think I’d like to sleep in a wagon tonight. With my lovely gypsy family”

“Right”

You hummed a response, smiling creeping back onto your face. You loved making Alfie squirm and this was the height.

“So either way I’m getting screwed tonight aren’t I?”

“Well, Alfie, we’ll just have to see where the night takes us, won’t we sweetheart?”

You took his hand and led him off towards the wagons, Johnny noticing you and greeting you with a big hug.

“Johnny Dogs, you mad fucker, come here” he picked you up from the ground and shook you a little, making you laugh, “oh, I missed you, uncail”

“And who’s this gentlemen, here then?”

“This is my man, Alfie, you might know him better as the man Tommy keeps fucking around with”

“Ah, so this’d be The Wandering Jew himself, eh?”

Alfie bristled a little at this but you just shrugged at him.

“You named yourself that, hun, din’t you? And I’d like to remind you of a certain contract right about now”

Alfie nodded to himself, set his jaw, and avoided eye contact with both you and Johnny, shaking his hand.

“Lovely to meet ya”

“Yeah, and you. Bringing the grand boy down to slum with us, are you?”

“Well, I think it’s important to share traditions with the ones you love, isn’t it Alfie?”

You turned to him with a smirk, fully enjoying how uncomfortable he was. Alfie was used to being the biggest man in the room, at least metaphorically, and he was absolutely out of his element here in the grass.

“Yeah, yeah, love, it is, yeah”

“Right, then. Where you having us?”

Johnny had set you up in a spare wagon they’d been fixing up and you’d been relishing being back out amongst the stars, with your family. London was nice. Sometimes. You’d grown to love it because of what it meant to you but you were never really a city girl and it was only when you got back out that you realised how close you’d been pressed. Alfie was not a country boy but he’d kept mostly quiet for your sake, taking what drink was offered him, and grumbling under his breath.

“You’re being very accommodating, my love, thank you”

You planted a kiss on his temple, smoothing his hair back against the side of his head.

“I’m too bloody cold to do much else, darlin’”

“Shut up” you scuffed up the hair you’d just fixed and turned back towards the centre of the group, where a bonfire was roaring, watching the people laughing and joking.

“We’re going to freeze to death”

“Alfie, please shut the fuck up, my love”

“We are going to freeze to death, yeah?” he took pauses between each set of words, staring into the fire in front of the wagon.

“We’re not going to freeze to death, you’re being a baby”

“How the fuck do you live in these things? I mean, honestly, I want to know, how generations have survived living feral like this”

“We’re not fucking feral you dick”

You punched his arm before shuffling closer to him and snuggling into his side, wrapping the edges of your shawl around as much of him as you could.

“Is muintir sinn”

“Is what?”

You laughed into his shoulder, your own drink warming your veins.

“It means we’re family. Well more like…kin. Not necessarily a family of blood, you know? Although Johnny is…sort of my uncle. Somewhere, it’s…”

You flapped your hand in the space between his chest and the shawl and he hummed into the crown of your head.

“I appreciate you doing this Alfie”

“Din’t have much of a choice, did I darlin’?”

He took another drink and you looked up at him.

“You did, Alfie Solomons does nothing he doesn’t want to”

“Yeah, well” he scowled again, looking back over his shoulder “what are the beds like in these things? Ya gonna fuck my back up?”

“No, it’ll be good for you” you turned to move the door open, letting him see further inside, “see, nice flat-board one at the back there, blankets and everything. We’re practically domesticated” you whispered in to his ear with a giggle and he shook his head at you.

He wrapped his arm over your shoulders, both of you looking out to where two of the lads had started play scrapping, their brothers cheering them on and you gave out a shout yourself.

“Go on, Billy!”

“Bloody feral, I tell ya”

You laughed together, him refilling his cup.

“I will say, this ain’t half bad”, he lifted the cup to you.

“Oh, a compliment!”

“No, no, don’t start that”

“No, where’s Ollie when you need him? I want this on paper!”

“Fuck off, darlin’”

You planted another kiss on his cheek, laying your forehead against him, drinking in his warmth, his smell, the sound of the fire, and the people, and the feel of the breeze on you. You didn’t mind London, as long as Alfie was there, and you loved the road, but if he’d stayed at the big house tonight you know neither of you would have slept half as well. But you had him here. And you had the night.

[stairnaheireann]

Today I shall behave, as if this is the day I will be remembered. –Dr. Seuss #quote

Today I shall behave, as if this is the day I will be remembered. –Dr. Seuss #quote

Maidin mhaith agaibh. Good morning from Stair na hÉireann.

Shannon River, Limerick city

[stairnaheireann]

There is no greater wealth in the world than peace of mind. #quote

There is no greater wealth in the world than peace of mind. #quote

Dia daoibh ar maidin. Good morning from Stair na hÉireann.

Sunday’s Well Rd, Cork City centre, David Otway Photography