Ireland brought the smoking ban in before the UK, and when I moved to London being hit with that smell all over again was jarring at best. I also vividly remember that Doyle’s on College Street was the only pub to smell WORSE after the ban, and yet all my friends insisted on going there.

"You select that Nirvana shirt because you're trying to tell the world that you are a proud Gen-Xer so moved in middle school by Kurt Cobain's deadpan honesty and self-loathing that Nirvana became your favorite band, and now that you're almost fifty, the nostalgia is unbearable."

Saw someone suggesting Queen Maeve (though it should be Medb, really) for the new Euro banknotes. Obviously she’s a hugely important mythological figure, and a role model for warmongering female leaders everywhere, but maybe not the best choice, for that exact reason?

“At McDonalds our most important ingredient is Irish farmers.” Distinct Jonathan Swift vibes to this new departure in fast food.

There is shamelessness and there is standing on the left side of the escalator, in London, and ignoring all the huffing, puffing and sideways glances. I am not a prophet, but I predict the woman who did this is going to have an incredibly lucrative career in a completely ethical industry.

Seeing a Healy-Rae quoted in Politico’s Playbook was a real ‘don’t cross the streams’ moment for me. Every country has its Awkward Backbench Squad, right?

Sometimes I wonder if discourse in English is fundamentally broken, because we use the same word (good) to denote the unrelated qualities of being effective and being morally correct. This thought brought to you by glimpsing discussions in The Pitt fandom, and also… *gestures towards entire world*

Anyone else have Pink Floyd stuck in their head?

Came home from (finally) seeing Copenhagen, one of my all time most beloved plays, and watched a rocket launching to the moon. Can’t decide if that’s thematically appropriate or not.

The more Irish writers do a ‘take’ on Chekhov, the more tempted I am to do a play about the post-colonial malaise of Irish playwrights obsessed with Chekhov. It will appeal to an audience of precisely Me, and will dig deep into the founded/unfounded guilt about not being ‘nice’ to the Anglo-Irish.

I have a running debate with My Brother the Economist about why Hollywood is dying. I say it’s the underlying economic forces that are slowly crushing the life out of the industry. He says it’s a form of cultural group think. I’m still startled at the sides we have both taken in this argument.

Ireland have pulled ahead 18 minutes into the match. This is not good for my blood pressure. Concentration span of gnats. #coybig

Headline of the year (so far)?

Dear @swkplay.bsky.social, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a theatre snack that made me happier.

Trying to decide how annoyed I should be when The Secret Agent - the actual best film of the year (and it isn’t close) - is totally ignored by the Oscars…

“Unwittingly, he trained a dolphin to kill the President of the United States” is the tagline for Day of the Dolphin, an actual film that was made by actual human beings, in the year of our Lord 1973. I can’t decide if I must see it without delay, or if that would only spoil it.

Reminder that if you see something horrific, there is good evidence that playing Tetris as soon as possible helps. Giving yourself PTSD from seeing photos or film clips doesn’t help anyone.

It’s pure, unadulterated prejudice, I know…but I’ve never been able to warm to a person with the name Nigel. Just something inherently off putting about the sound of it.

Sigh… Darcy is arrogant, socially lazy, and a rotten old snob… traits which do not equal brooding, but which River Cartwright has in abundance. Austen was too sensible for that nonsense. If you want Byronic yahoos, the Brontes have you covered. I blame MacFayden’s softie-Darcy for a lot of this.

I have a LinkedIn stalker. To my certain knowledge, I have never met this man in real life (though we had at least one acquaintance in common, so maybe?) but he visits my LinkedIn profile on a monthly, weekly and sometimes even daily basis. I don’t know why anyone would do this!

"The men implicated in the Epstein files reinforces that I spend half my life explaining to men that their simplified, optimistic view of other men doesn’t line up with the experience of women and girls trying to dodge sexual harassment, assault and abuse attempts." - Leslie Morgan Steiner

He tries to kill your sister-in-law’s springer spaniel by hanging it from a bridle hook: LOOK. It’s not great. But is it the type of behavior that will definitely stop people from imagining him as a romantic lead? Something tells me we aren’t there yet.

Oh, LinkedIn, thanks ever so, but I think not.

Steve McQueen wins this handily - makes wonderful films that I never want to watch again. (Okay, this has moderated slightly, but I have no intention of watching any of Hunger, Shame or 12 Years A Slave ever again).

Colm Meany as Daniel O’Connell strikes me as a great missed casting opportunity. They even have the same hair.

“I started out writing theatre, what happened?” “You realised you need to buy stuff.” I feel personally attacked by Lisa McGee.

Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” is currently turning half the online world into various kinds of hissing cats, and that’s all very tiresome, I know. But I cannot get over the decision to turn Heathcliff’s violence against Isabella into “consensual BDSM.”

The Anna Karenina one is unhinged.

This, but for London

Introduce yourself with the name your parents almost gave you: Doireann Which is a lovely name, but the thought of the thought of the absolute butchery most English people would make of the pronunciation*, makes me glad they went with Maev (which only half of them can manage). *no, it’s not Doreen

I do appreciate when filmmakers acknowledge that the female gaze exists… But I can’t help it - it takes me out of the story when an adult man on a starvation diet has biceps the size of my neck.

Have people got worse at making phone calls since the pandemic? More and more, I pick up the work phone to people who introduce themselves with: “Hello.” That’s it. Not a hint of who they are or why they’re calling, just “Hello” and a dead silence.

There are many things about Americans I like - their instant friendliness, their cooked breakfasts, Grand Central Station - but every time I hear the…Atrocity that is their pronunciation of the word croissant, I mentally start humming La Marseillaise.

Currently trying to work out who on earth the “Colin ITV U.C” in my contacts is. Usually I save the number of every journalist who calls me, with a few notes (their paper, subject matter) but clearly, sometimes that goes awry. It’s like trying to do archaeology on my own brain.

On the one hand, I still dislike these LED tube things - well, I dislike that they seem to be used in every second big house theatre production at the moment. On the other hand - at least this time they’re not being used to create the illusion we’re watching a flatscreen TV?

For the third time in my life, I have a neighbour who plays the double bass. I had no idea it was so popular. And I still feel really silly when a musical instrument is taller than me.

It’s silly how much this irritates me but… But if you must refer to Ireland as Eire (you is virtually always a journalist who wants to delegitimise the independent Irish state), try to remember the goddamn fada? Éire means Ireland - Eire sounds different and means “a load or a burden.”

I took my parents to The Spy Who Came in From The Cold as their post-Christmas present. It’s a fun production, even if the Berlin Wall looks a little silly (yes it does, a noble effort of set design, but still). I can’t make up my mind - does it fundamentally change the story if Leamas is Irish?

“What brand are your boots, I’d like to buy a pair for my mum.” I can’t decide whether to be complimented or mortified.

I am stuck at home with the dreaded Winter Lurgy for the third day running…is it admitting defeat to put on the Lord of the Rings films? (I have already watched all of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and am desperately craving fruit gums).

The Night Manager: Tom Hiddleston was in an explosion - what peril, what danger, who can tell if he will survive this latest exploit? Me: Like you would really do it. I think there should be a phrase for this kind of failed cliffhanger.

My reflections on what I saw at the theatre this year (and some thoughts on the less than inspiring state of London theatre right now). thebookofmaev.wordpress.com/2025/12/31/2...

I am dead, and my profession is fighting with everyone else in the graveyard. (When alive, I was running a barely subsistence farm in Connemara).

Rear Window is a perfect movie, but I will never not be annoyed by the sheer audacity of Jimmy Stewart acting like Grace Kelly isn’t good enough for him.

Please note - packing challenge aside, the colossal squid stuffed animal was exactly as much of a success as I hope it would be. I may pack like a lunatic, but I’m winning at the whole Being-an-Auntie thing.

Once upon a time, this used to be my bedroom - now it is where the books live (not pictured, the other two walls of the room, also covered with books). A late, but hopefully still worthy entry to #DuvetKnowItsChrismas.

I’ve read my share of Russian literature, but nothing has ever matched the delicate, despairing sigh a hundred people just let out, when the baggage carousel stopped for no apparent reason halfway through delivering my flight’s bags. Only Gogol reached these heights of misery.

This part of Cré na Cille reads very differently now to how O Caidhin must have intended it.

Me a month ago: this colossal squid stuffed animal will be a massive Christmas success with Nephew number 1 Me tonight: this is a packing conundrum I am not equipped for.

Put the door in a different wall, and this would be Hodges Figgis on Christmas Eve.