Author: kevin foy

A Dead Man’s Tail It was the pit of winter. It was the pivot of time. Darkness was only broken by seven  hours of short weak light. It was harsh on everyone. Some people made it harsher on themselves. Slanty was one of those people. Slanty, an irregular man living at the edge of the…

The centerpiece is the school hall. Kevob and Nico had gotten A’s in the spelling test. The reward for the highest two results in the class was giving out the milk trays to the classes. Kevob was afraid and did not know what to do. Again and again he passed the school hall each time…

All the pictures here are up for auction in the up and coming Morgan Driscoll Irish Art Auction. I’ve finally found a use for myself in this useless world. The short brief passage of time. The another day out on my bike before I heard the harrowing news. Before that crushing loss. At a roundabout,…

All the pictures here are up for auction in the up and coming Morgan Driscoll Irish Art Auction. I’ve finally found a use for myself in this useless world. The short brief passage of time. The another day out on my bike before I heard the harrowing news. Before that crushing loss. At a roundabout,…

It was the ubiquitous part of the train journey into Dublin northbound through Fingal in the 1990’s. Over the splendor of green pastures you roamed with rolling hills in the background, panorama views of bays and beaches, grand high viaducts towering over towns, estuaries meeting endings at sea and then you came towards Donabate and…

Fingal in the 1990s was a scene that unfolded with every northbound train journey. Lush pastures rolled past, dotted with rolling hills. Grand viaducts soared over towns as panoramic views of bays and beaches unfolded. Estuaries met the sea, but approaching Donabate, a jarring sight awaited: the unsightly open dump of Balheary. Trucks rumbled up,…

This week, a bewildered Spain watched as a former football chief faced a potential 30 months behind bars for… a kiss. Not a violent assault, not a prolonged harassment, but a single, unwanted kiss. Apparently, in the topsy-turvy world we now inhabit, a fleeting moment of misplaced affection is deemed a graver threat to society…

The clocks have gone back or forward or something and the sun is an analogy in some other place to the clock hands which point its place in the sky. Why do we do it; Why alter the clocks rather than what the clocks do to us. We are in its control from the age…

I wrote this after drinking from a very dodgy well and many other dark shite in my life going on and coming out of. That brown sodden water I drank from jeopardized by dung off rung off was to epitome the year of 2018. Then more happened. Lovely yellow champagne piss with the reek odour…