bahern7

 

If he could take his mind off the mitote for a moment, all Jett Nettlefield had to do was press “I Accept”. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to take one’s mind off the mitote. That incessant murmur of angels’ voices could always be drowned out with just the right amount of cognitive behavioural therapy. They were new terms and conditions he was being asked to accept from one of the major corporations. It seemed like the whole world was talking about them. To say they were controversial would be an understatement. A lot of folk complained, notwithstanding the chips that they’d had implanted. It was creepy, a gross invasion of privacy, but in the end nearly everybody relented and accepted. The treasure trove of media on offer was simply too rich to forgo. Jett was driving in one of the wealthier sectors of the conurbation in a brilliant car, a real humdinger of a motor that he had just taken ownership of. He’d worked hard and saved hard to buy it. His work ethic was so strong these da...

Readers,  In a time of Covid-19 this is a movie I would like to rewatch: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0319829/     perhaps revisiting it on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPYOqs8kwLI I think it's the movie's title Masked and Anonymous that has drawn me to it again. Masks are being worn everywhere these days after all. BA

 

                                                           It was a cold night by the canal when Fintan Clinch, shocked and feeling like a trapped rat, settled down to sleep in a ditch. His green raincoat wrapped him and the grass was soft. But it was damn cold and ending up like this had numbed him to the core. He wondered where his family and friends had got to and agonized over what they would make of it all. But, as sleep took hold, a dawning set in that he was far from the world of family and friends; and a great distance too from concerns like striving for that perfect job, saving for that rainy day or paying off a thirty-year mortgage. The plain fact was he was nowhere near the relentless ...

The Royal Canal climbing its way from Clonsilla up to Coolmine this afternoon... #photo by @bahern7   #photosofdublin

Thursday rolled round. Kathryn had left work early and hailed a taxi on Dame Street . It was a beautiful summer’s afternoon. She asked the driver to take her to the Summit Inn in Howth. As the car jaunted along the North Strand Kathryn observed Greta’s number coming up on her phone. She didn’t answer and let it ring out. “Off work early?” the taxi driver asked. He was a Syrian named Akram. “I’m off work forever,” Kathryn said. It was a strange thing to say, Akram thought, but he ploughed on with the conversation. “Lovely afternoon for Howth. Great views at the summit. Brought my son up the other week. He said he wants to be a photographer when he grows up.” “I’ll take a final look when I’m up there,” Kathryn said. She had actually powered off her phone completely and was gazing at Clontarf passing by. There was a contented look in her eye. Akram could see she was attractive, intelligent, not the kind he told himself for self-harm. She’s probably just heading out t...