Róisín Ingle: I went maevesdropping in my mission to be more Maeve Binchy

My mission this week is to be more Maeve. You know the Maeve I mean. With apologies to all other Maeves, I am referring to marvellous Maeve Binchy. The Echoes Festival in Dublin which celebrates the late, beloved author and Irish Times journalist is happening this weekend. There will be talks and discussions and even an inaugural Echoes swim at the Vico Baths in Maeve’s home village of Dalkey, led by Ruth Fitzmaurice, author of I Found My Tribe.

Maeve was one of the wisest women in Ireland. She died on July 30th, 2012, aged 73 leaving, as a legacy, wonderful words in articles and novels but also reams of life advice. I wish, as many of us do, that she was here. She’d be 82 now, still dispensing wisdom and warmth and spreading joy. Sadly she’s not with us, but we will always have her words, and her encouraging, enthusiastic advice such as:

Learn to type. Learn to drive. Have fun.

My typing is quite decent, Maeve actually. But I suppose even I, a dedicated joy-seeker, could have even more fun. And yes, good point, I really should learn to drive.

End of an era as the Last Corner Shop closes: ‘I’m going to cry’

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Brianna Parkins: Stop telling me ‘it’s okay to not be okay.’ I want to be okay, thanks

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Greta Thunberg: If people are filming me and trying to break in, of course it affects my family

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Emer McLysaght: Turns out I was right to be terrified of quicksand all along

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Write postcards. Letters take too long and you won’t do it. A postcard takes two minutes.

The thing about Maeve was she didn’t just talk the talk. I’ve met so many people who got postcards and letters from her over the years. Especially fellow writers. She became so successful that Oprah Winfrey once had her on her talk show – but Maeve wanted other people to succeed too and she wrote encouraging words to them so that this might happen. Maeve didn’t think there was a finite pot of success or that it was something she needed to hold on to selfishly in case her own might be reduced. She said success was more like “a cairn, a heap of stones where the more each person gets, the more it adds to the general body of work out there”. There are far too many cards and letters I’ve written in my head but never sent. Time to send them. Thanks for the reminder, Maeve.

Write quickly. Taking longer usually doesn’t make it better.

As in everything else, Maeve was perfectly correct about this. She also said “don’t get it right, get it written”. Which can be applied to everything from emails to tax returns. Maeve-inspired note to self: Stop thinking about doing it, just get it done.

Get up early. See the world.

When she was a journalist, reporting from London for this newspaper while also starting on her career as a novelist, Maeve would get up at 5.30am to get three hours of novel writing done before starting her journalism work. I know I’m not alone in thinking I would write a novel “if only I had the time”. We all have the time. And see the world? I still haven’t been to Rome. Or even Paris. Being grounded during the pandemic has lit a fire under many of us. I’m booking tickets as I type, Maeve.

Don’t wait for permission to be happy. Don’t wait for permission to do anything. Make your own life.

Maeve famously used to earwig on people’s conversations, something I do a lot. It’s a hobby I call maevesdropping, in her honour. I went out maevesdropping the other night in my mission to be more Maeve.

It was raining, but I’m still Covid-wired to sit outside, so that’s what I did. In any case Casa Pasta in Clontarf has a decent awning as well as really excellent pasta. Two young women were sitting at the other outside table. They had just been to the gym. I was exhausted listening to their exploits. They’d “worked out” and now they were in the mood for carbs.

They discussed whether they’d have wine. One of them decided on a glass of Pinot Grigio, but the other young woman told her friend she had only €15 in her bank account and could just barely afford the vegetable pasta dish. I ate my lasagne and sipped my wine and listened to these two young women starting out in their lives.

One of them, a social care worker, did 12-hour shifts in a residential home. The other was having trouble with a mean boss. “Don’t wait for permission to do anything”, I wanted to turn around and say, then thought that an out of context intervention might scare them, so I kept Maeve’s words to myself.

Instead, when I went to pay for my meal, I asked to pay their bill too. It wasn’t much, a couple of bowls of pasta and one glass of wine. I could well afford it. I wanted to be more Maeve and I fancied it was a Maeve-ish thing to do. The thought of that made me happy.

As I cycled home, I listened to a Maeve Binchy play about the unfairness of ageism called Golden Oldie, My Arse that was being revived on RTÉ Radio 1. As I expected, the wisdom of her words on that important subject had not aged one bit.

It’s Maeve Binchy season. And my mission this week, this life, is to be more Maeve.

Echoes takes place from October 1st to Sunday October 3rd in the Dalkey Castle & Heritage Centre, Co Dublin. For tickets see echoes.ie