A 1972 photograph of Sean ‘Faeilí’ Ó Catháin (front) and Maidhc ‘Léan’ Ó Guithín (back): two of the three cousins who rowed across Blasket Sound in a storm in 1947 to get a coffin for the deceased Seán Ó Ceárna. The man in the middle is Seán Ó Guithín. Photograph: From the Great Blasket to America – The Last Memoir by an Islander, published by the Collins Press

An Irishman’s Diary: The Blasket School of Literature writes another volume

Padraig McKenna (a cousin of Barney’s), Seán Óg McKenna (a brother), and Gerry Tully: all performing at the Donnycarney Trad Festival next month.

An Irishman’s Diary: A Dublin suburb goes back to its roots

‘Founded in 1893, Donore is marking a big milestone this year. Among the celebratory events, last weekend, was a “This is Your Life” tribute to Jim McNamara’ (above, with Irish Runner editor, Frank Greally). Photograph: Ian Redican

An Irishman’s Diary: A demon to compete against, a pleasure to deal with

Mayor Quimby and Homer Simpson - quite possibly descendants of Blasket Islanders

A DUBLINER now living near the borders of New Hampshire and Massachusetts has e-mailed me about the eerie experience this week…

‘Later, in time-honoured fashion, four nuts loosened without a struggle. For the fifth, I had to stand on the wheel-wrench, and then perform part of Riverdance on it.’ Photograph: Getty Images

An Irishman’s Diary: When in doubt, try kicking the tyre

‘Then I got sucked in, thanks to The Little Museum of Dublin’s uniquely interactive feature, a state-of-the-art, fully human curator who wanders around the rooms striking up conversations with visitors and then (“you’d be interested in this”) matching them with exhibits. His name is Trevor White and, having created the museum back in 2011, he is now its director.’ Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times

An Irishman’s Diary In which our hero attempts to experience European Literature Night but loses the plot

‘The real-life Seamus McGowan had shared a room with Seán O’Casey (above) and was no stranger to bombs. But as his Starry-Plough-bedecked headstone records, he was somewhat luckier than the pedlar, dying peacefully in 1955.’ Photograph:  Hulton Archive/Getty Images

An Irishman’s Diary: The last word on a famous lexicographer

Red-tinted glasses: Alex Ferguson at a training session in 2011. Photograph: Matthew Peters/MUFC/Getty

I’m not an ABU bigot, but the retiring Manchester United boss personified everything that was wrong with football

‘In one letter, Tolkien admitted “a certain distaste” for Celtic myths. They were like broken, stained-glass windows, reassembled at random, he thought. “Colourful”, in other words, but “mad”.’ Above, the grave of  Tolkien and his wife Edith,  in Oxford, England. Photograph:  Graham Barclay/BWP Media/Getty Images
Muddled Earth

JRR Tolkien’s tortured relationship with Ireland

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