I live in Carrigaline, a few miles outside Cork city, Ireland. Ireland’s second city is first in every important respect, at least according to us locals who cheekily refer to Cork as the Real Capital. A place where the weather and sport are the two main topics of conversation, natives have elevated exceptionalism to an art form, naturally considering Cork the funniest place on the planet while being the best at most things, most of the time. This thriving metropolis is made glorious by its location and steeped in history, both nationally and internationally.
What is the greatest thing about the place you call home?
The people. Cork wit may be centuries old, yet it’s up to date, quite often wise, insulting, obscure and frequently idiotic. A mix of sarcasm, wanton exaggeration and lightning quips. Males are particularly adept at this ball-hopping or slagging, but if you dish it out, you gotta be able to take it. We are experts at self-depreciation.
What turns you on creatively?
An interesting Q. Acting the maggot during my formative years has given me plenty of material for a semi-autobiographical memoir, but I get ideas for short stories from day-to-day observations.
What is your favorite word, and can you use it in a poetic sentence?
Hmmm. Maybe ”langer” or “pinkypepperhole”, but I’ll go for the craic. A word that confuses many outsiders, not be confused with that illicit substance. Craic is the atmosphere, fun, and carry-on surrounding a day or night out. Not surprisingly, there is usually drink involved.
Sorry, but I’ve never got the hang of poetry.
Released early from a life sentence working in financial services, I started writing short stories. To date, it's been much more successful than my golf, which is terrible. No particular genre. An eclectic mix.