Just been coaching all the six year olds of Dublin in fencing because I am fully in support of arming small children with knives

It seems like a former president heading for prison should be attracting more attention, but the general reaction I'm seeing here in France is just a shrug and that accompanying gallic puff of air.

Funny seeing Sarkozy sentenced to prison this week. One of my first pieces ever to see print was a @thetls.bsky.social scene setter for his rise to power, which I felt far too clever for spotting in the offing. I’m still glad, all these years later, I insisted on the question mark.

My mistake was agreeing to go for lunch (Friday, presumably boozy?) with someone called ‘Jim’

I'm writing The Times's obit this week for Conor Gearty – an Irish barrister who was a founding member of Matrix Chambers, and as a professor at the LSE, one of the world's leading scholars of human rights. If by chance you knew him, and you've a moment, I'd be very grateful for a quick chat.

I take a look this morning for the BBC at one quiet group of people who, between Ukraine and the Middle East, have never been busier: the war insurance underwriters at Lloyd’s of London, which provides 70 per cent of the world’s war insurance. www.bbc.co.uk/news/article...

I am out out running up a mountain in Ireland to rain and 80s dance mixes.

Stolen: my fencing kit bag, water bottle, and expression. Please return if seen.

Disasters are great for talking to strangers in London. Once I had the best dishwasher explosion - neighbours downstairs and next door both affected. Met both. Ended up having both round for Christmas. Still in touch.

Wednesday, after a charity dinner in London, I led survivors onto a Soho dance floor, to Chinatown, and a casino until 8 am. Thursday, I took eGates and aircoach, and walked home through Dún Laoghaire. Weds I had 0 chats with strangers. Thurs I had 5. This whole Ireland lark is on to something.

Am writing in the front row of my DUB-LHR flight. In a turbulent moment over the Isle of Man, salads take flight, mingle in a heap of broken china in the aisle. Without batting an eye, in-flight lead quips ‘lunch is served’. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I fly @british-airways.bsky.social

Finally got to admire the @businesspost’s dishy new newsroom (as opposed to old-oldsroom?) in my first reporting shift today in the new digs. (Move in happened last week: I was by a pool in Italy.) Friday’s when I learn if you can finish a news shift there at 7 pm and be on a flight to London at 8.

My best friends have abandoned me so off to the newsroom I sulk

New French kid in my daughter’s class. Lands in Ireland last week. Sees a seal. Jumps up and down, pointing, loudly shouting ‘phoque! phoque! phoque!’ Basically she’s fitting in grand in Dublin already.

Madly, trulli? Have the album cover, just need the album.

Each day in journalism’s a brave adventure. Today - I’m wondering round a campsite in Italy, armed with a biro and a receipt-turned-stenographer notepad, shouting through my mobile at Seb Coe, ‘Seb, I found a clearing in the trees, can you hear me now?’ overcoming hurdles, keeping the receipts

Ronnie Scott's late sets, tho. Brought the valiant survivors from a book launch last night. It's so intimate and friendly - chatting about jazz with artists after their sets - and my god it's only a tenner. Honestly this is the most fun you can have in London at midnight with your clothes on.

Fantastic being able to chair a launch dinner last night for Bob Seely’s new book on Russia’s New Total War. We also raised a few pennies for ambulances for Ukraine - justgiving.com/page/mllu. I’m going to try to get out before year’s end to lend a hand too. Ukraine deserves and needs our help. 💙💛

Loads of Americans from Kansas and Iowa coming through Dublin airport now, on their way to the weekend's footie at the Aviva. Chatted with a Garda at passports, who was munching on a chocolate biscuit. "From America!" she grinned.

About 3 am in Soho I decided to encourage a bunch of drug dealers to do something different in life because what would their mammies say

Just spent 16 miles, Dún Laoghaire to Poolbeg, running on Dublin beaches while pretending I was in Baywatch. Baile Átha Cliath-watch?

Put story and kids to bed at midnight, and strapped on runners to race a red moon down to the nearest track, and do 32x100m at 1 am. I’m posting this so if anything happens to me, you’ll know at least I died doing something I cordially hated.

My hardest byline ever, in today’s print @theguardian.com, is the obit of Paula Heister, a fellow at Harvard and Cambridge and prize-winning illustrator - but also my best friend. And her very last act, in a Vienna hospital, was to become my son’s godmother. www.theguardian.com/education/20...

Summer sunset in Dún Laoghaire. The young / In one another's arms, birds in the trees … The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas / Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long

Something I’ve never told anyone - probably because it’s not that interesting 🤷‍♂️ - is I turned down dinner with Stanley Johnson to go on my second date with my now-wife…

One incredibly lovely thing Irish athletics does *very* well is kids up to 16 can attend senior nationals for free – and Olympians spend *lots* of time with them after their races doing the chats and the selfies. And Sarah Lavin honestly seems never to forget a kid's name.

Just had a little girl tell me she found a picture that 'looked like it was from the 1980s'. Reader, it was black and white.

Been doing sport with 20 kids in the field in an estate in Balgaddy: my hurdles brought all the kids to the yard. Got two Gardaí to join us after in a highly competitive wet game of footie. Wasn't till I was leaving I spotted a horse in the field. Next week we'll do equestrian.

Was just teaching relays, in a field in the middle of a Tallaght council estate, to a dozen kids. All incredibly cute, four knew me from going into their schools.  Then, a young man on a scooter darted across the field; a Garda car, pursuing, careened on the grass behind; 50 metres from us. 🧵

This morning at 8:30 a lovely Austrian girl knocked on my door and demanded I go run 16 miles with her around the gorgeous seafronts of Dublin. While this was beautiful I’ve now obviously moved house and changed my number.

I feel this could've been true at at least several points in the last 700 years.

Since I was spending the afternoon boiling down notes into an article, this fella decided to surprise me with a drawing of ALL the aeroplanes we’ve taken in the past year, together.

So they decided if there were a few more of me, we might get off on holidays sooner

First track sesh back this morning. Lots of hugs then lots of pain. Basically a relationship.

They have NO IDEA we’re all hitting the track together at 8 am tomorrow.

Working as a foreign correspondent teaches you so much about yourself. In my case, today I’ve learnt I can read Romanian and it gives me an incredible headache.

Off the track, she also won 56 caps for Ireland as a hockey international and an OBE for services to sport in the North. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam, the torchbearer of all torchbearers. (3/3)

In 1956, she had the distinction of a letter in the Irish Times saying what "a disgraceful hussy" she was going off to the Olympics, leaving her husband and small child behind. But there was nothing disgraceful about Maeve, who saw herself as a suffragette for sport, on the track or off. (2/3)

Maeve Kyle, Ireland's first woman athletics Olympian, is who made the Olympic track successes of Irish women after possible. She was there first, in 1956, 1960 (sharing a meal in Rome with Mohammad Ali), and 1964: in Sydney in 2000, she coached Sonia O'Sullivan to silver in 5,000 metres. (1/3)

Spent the afternoon playing with incredibly cute kids in a council estate in Lucan - teaching relays and javelin, then rugby and footie together. Social worker cycled up, said ‘we have them till they’re 10-12, then the forces of darkness take over’. (1/2)

I will now need your help in practising each of these. (Also I’ve just started marathon training for New York - clearly this can mean more cheese.)

15 weeks to the NYC marathon. Did weights with my PT, then met my running coach for two hours of tempo-then-hill-sprints-then-tempo-then-hill-sprints. Am now counting on sushi and gin to make me write/right again.

With zero involvement from me, Carlotta started compiling a notebook of things to say in Italian. (Ordering pasta, I am from Ireland, where are you from…) While Liam has begun collecting Arabic from the neighbours (so far: yes, no, come inside). Surprised and never so proud.

This is about the point in introducing ex-MI6 author Christopher Steele’s book where I pointed out he was Licensed to Quill

Just landed in London, with two empty suitcases. This is because all my clothes have somehow moved to London. Clearly, I fly to London wearing clothes, then back to Dublin naked. This is the only way I have solved this.

et à tous mes chers amis français - une très bonne fête 🇫🇷

Neighbours' kids, from Dublin, are back in Morocco for the month. They ring my two each day with the craic from there. Current convo started 'do you want to see this dog I found?', evolved into intercontinental Steve's Lava Chicken.' And this is all lovelier than I can say.

House party in Dungarvan. Threw myself into getting the dancing started in the garden for three sweaty hours. It was hot and now I have the nickname Too Posh To Wash.

My little fellow, and intrepid summer intern, has just opened my review copy - kindly sent by the publishers - of Christopher’s book for Tuesday's interview in London. (Two spaces left! Steele yourselves...) Through a sunkissed weekend I will be underlining it up on a beach in Dublin….

Also - if you are in New York, please come for pints, human rights, and mad craic after the marathon!