MAN ABOUT TOWN

If you’re reading this, that probably means you’ve purchased a copy of the latest Cthulhu Invictus sourcebook from Golden Goblin Press : Britannia and Beyond , a Call of Cthulhu guide to Britannia, Caledonia and Hibernia in the Roman era. Thanks for your support of the book, and your interest in the subject.   Here, I’ve detailed some of the thinking that went into writing my chapter, which is focused on Iron-Age Ireland during the Antonine period, as well as describing and detailing some of the many sources which informed my work. Before proceeding, I should acknowledge that I am neither an academic nor Irish (my great-great-grandmother Ellen Brady was born in Country Clare, emigrating to Australia after losing her family in An Gorta Mór , but that definitely doesn’t make me Irish-Australian – I’m Australian through and through, for better or worse). In writing about Ireland in the Roman era for Britannia and Beyond , I drew instead on a great love for Irish music, history...

I wrote this piece in early 2020 on spec for the editor of the travel section of a nameless newspaper, having visited Ireland for the second time the previous year. Of course, shortly after I submitted it, COVID hit, and the editor said she could no longer publish it despite her liking for the piece. So, here it is on my blog - my first blog post since 2017! ***  Low clouds are rolling down the mountainside towards Teelin Harbour, where the River Glen meets the choppy waters of Donegal Bay. Outside, a chill wind is blowing but in the front bar of the Rusty Mackerel in County Donegal, the Guinness and the craic are flowing and it feels like the most welcoming pub in the world. Located in remote north-west Ireland, Teelin scarcely seems to qualify as a village. There’s no church that I can see, not even a shop; just the pub, an Irish language college, and a cluster of houses scattered along the road leading to the harbour. Wild fuchsias bloom along the road’s edge; in the green fi...

I've watched two very B-grade yet enjoyable DVD's in the last two days. On Sunday night, after a quietly debauched weekend of art, absinthe and more, I settled down in front of the TV for the debut feature from US writer-director Tennyson Bardwell, entitled Dorian Blues . This low-budget gay indie flick is yet another coming out and coming of age film, which despite a surfeit of cliches manages to coast home on a significant degree of charm, ably assisted by the charisma of its two male leads, a witty script, and a good sense of comic timing. Michael McMillian is Dorian Lagatos, the titular character whose self-realisation the film follows. He's a wimpy gay nerd, over-fond of the word fabulous, with an aggressive, over-bearing father (Steve Fletcher) and a passive, emotionally distant mother (Mo Quigley). One of the only positives in Dorian's life is his effortlessly successful, football hero younger brother, Nicky (the charismatic Lea Coco, almost an equal lead rather...

Sunday 11th September After a restless night's sleep (I was paranoid about oversleeping and missing my Aer Lingus flight to Dublin, the capital city of the Republic of Ireland, because I don't own a watch or a travelling clock) I eventually climbed out of bed at 8am. I probably only had about two hours sleep all night, despite getting to bed at the relatively civilised (for Barcelona!) hour of 2am, and so consequently was a bit of a grouch for the rest of the day. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been a problem, except for the circumstances of my flight. Richard's travel tip #18: Don't catch a Sunday midday flight from Barcelona - the airport will be full of still-drunk, loudly boasting British lads who are returning home from a weekend of shagging and partying and conspiring about what lies to tell their girlfriends. Worse, flights from Barcelona to Dublin at this time are, according to an Aer Lingus stewardess, traditionally full of Spanish high school kids on their...

Monday 12th September It's not really surprising that I slept in until almost 11am today as I was exhausted, which meant that I missed out on the hostel's free breakfast and lost part of the day, but woke deeply refreshed and ready for a big day. It began with a quick breakfast (a smoothie and a cheese & ham bagel for those who like to know the minutae of my life) and then a visit to the Dublin Fringe ticket office to grab tickets to my first three shows (of which the promo artwork for one is pictured above). Then I headed off for a guided tour of Dublin's Trinity College , whose alumni include the likes of writer and wit Oscar Wilde , and Bram Stoker , the author of Dracula . Our student guide was casutic, witty and extremely entertaining as he pointed out various buildings, commented on college traditions, and showed us such landmarks as the two great trees growing on the college lawns, their roots buried deep in the graveyard of the old monastery which once stood he...

It's Monday morning, and I should be working. I should be blogging about the exhibition opening I attended on Friday night (A Constructed World's idiosyncratically wonderful Increase Your Uncertainty at ACCA), or the somewhat subdued opening night of the play I went to thereafter (Hoy Polloy's production of Irish playwright Conor McPherson's Shining City ). I could blog about the excellent Is Not magazine's second birthday party, which I attended on Saturday night as Miss Libertine , or the fun I had hanging out at Murmur that same evening, celebrating MsKP 's 30th birthday in the company of many excellent bloggers and other peeps. But no. I'm going to blog about the bloke I went home with on Saturday night, instead. So there I am, happily tipsy after a cocktail, an absinthe and a couple of champagnes, leaning against a wall at Miss Libertine, happily surveying the crowd in the courtyard and thinking about nothing in particular, when a drunken brogue mutt...