An Irishman’s Diary: what Freud taught me about putting
Those tears and admonitions were not for scuffed golf shots, they were for myself, for all that was happening, or rather not happening for me in the world
Tag: Irishman’s Diary
An Irishman’s Diary: when Tiger Woods was king
Some of us turned back to our typewriters and the other implements of our labours and pondered again the Kodachrome gloss that sporting combat and skill of the highest order occasionally visits upon otherwise routine lives
An Irishman’s Diary: from a beach to Raglan Road
Each incoming wave a new beginning, each retreating wave another present joy turned to irretrievable past. The same but always changing . . . fresh grains swooshing in and old ones swishing out all the time
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