I am a dripped trail of bitumen, defining the scored ground between Tyrone’s potholes and their Donegal cousins. I am a stream, clogged with black silage-wrap, dead sheep and discarded Coca-Cola bottles. I am the hunched hoodie in the Diesel…
I’ve just spent a week at Oideas Gael learning Irish in the valley of Glencolmcille… these are my memories… sheimhius, fadas, focloir and grammar corrections welcome… Mo seachtain na gaelige anseo Lá A Haon “Dia duit,” she said. The fear (no not…