Double Vision with Charlie Adley
Staring out of my new office window as I write this, I’m feeling strangely emotional. It’s not strange for this scribbler to feel emotional, but today my emotions themselves are strange. Today is actually the latter half of last week, as lost in a time wormhole, the only thing I can focus on without distraction is my work.
Next week there’s a trip to Galway, then to London, and every other moment I work at the physical and creative exercise that is unpacking.
Never had a move like this. My new home is an anti-Tardis: much smaller inside than you’d think from outside.
When I first saw this house I took photos of it and showed them to a gillie friend of mine from Connemara.
“What do you think? It feels good but the kitchen and bathroom are so tiny, and -”
“You walk in here flashing photos of a house at me like it’s your new girlfriend. Now, does it have a room to sleep in?”
“Does it have a room for you to write and work in?”
“Does it have a room for you to relax in?”
“Yup, but -”
“Anything more for one man is gluttony.”
There must be something about the acid soil of bogland that makes my Yorkshire and Connemara friends so cutting; so brutally to the point and effective.
Today, last week, whenever this is, my churning gut of feeling is interpreted perfectly by the snow dancing on the blizzard raging outside.
We give out about the forecasts, but my app predicted twelve hours of snow here today, starting at 9am, and it was spot on.
For more, read this week’s Galway City Tribune.
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