You only need 10
You only need 10
At the end of the day, my wise Irish friend used to say, there is always the night, Liz Breslin writes.
Liz Breslin
Teaching clarity and charity
Teaching clarity and charity
In the years I spent tefling - teaching English as a foreign language - there were plenty of memorable times, mostly arising from linguistic mix-ups or sudden moments of clarity, especially when tefling in English-speaking countries with a whole range of cultures sorted according to how well they could conjugate and idiomise.
What's in a name? More than you'd think
What's in a name? More than you'd think
What's in a name?
A big cheer for the Ministry of Comfy Shoes
A big cheer for the Ministry of Comfy Shoes
Sitting around the lunch table with three generations, we wondered: Is the news mostly bad or sad these days?
The other half
The other half
You know how it is when you wake up in the morning with a supremely annoying lyric dancing around in your brain?
War; what is it good for?
War; what is it good for?
When I was young and ignorant, I thought the Great War sounded just that, great.
Some things just don't add up
Some things just don't add up
There are those who say maths is boring. But most of us know the truth. Maths is like oxygen: important and inescapable, lurking.
The truth behind the conspiracy theory
The truth behind the conspiracy theory
I do like a good conspiracy theory. Who really killed JFK? Who shot JR? Questions that keep you hanging on the edge of your seat until the next series or the newest wave of evidence/fabrication come into play.
Completely turned off
Completely turned off
It's a bit over 40 years since Gil Scott-Heron penned the piece that would earn him monikers like ''the godfather of rap'' and ''founder of the spoken word movement'' for the rest of his days.
My Dragon Summer
My Dragon Summer
There are lots of contenders for the saddest lines ever written.
'Twas midnight in the bedroom
'Twas midnight in the bedroom
I was brought up on traditional Christmas stories, the sort that saw me going to midnight Mass and arranging holy plaster figures in a home-made wooden crib.
Thinking Allowed: Play up and play the game
Thinking Allowed: Play up and play the game
My granddad taught me how to bowl. A cricket ball, of course; for him there was no other sport. I remember standing in the back garden, the smell of cardigan wafting from behind me, his big hands over mine.
No talk in the park
No talk in the park
Liz Breslin spills the beans on her trip to the formerly top-secret Bletchley Park.
This patient's mind bristles like a toothbrush
This patient's mind bristles like a toothbrush
Sitting in the dentist's chair is one of the last refuges of single-tasking.
The greater leveller
The greater leveller
The news that our terrorism alert levels have gone from very low to low in the past few weeks has brought to mind those swingometer rural fire warning rainbow charts.
Little rays of sunshine
Little rays of sunshine
After a week at home with the flu (the real sort, the doctor said), we'd tried most things.
Thinking Allowed: Just blame it on London
Thinking Allowed: Just blame it on London
Let's face it. There's a lot wrong with the world these days. But two things make me really mad. Stainless steel pineapple slicers and planned obsolescence. Let me explain.
Blowing a whistle on sport
Blowing a whistle on sport
As far as I can tell, there is no official mental disorder relating to sports fanaticism.
Benefits all round from doing good
Benefits all round from doing good
Altruism might not be such a fashionable thing these days: in the culture of the selfie we're encouraged to consider, enhance and preen ourselves before we ever get to thinking about others in society.
Thinking Allowed: For crying out loud
Thinking Allowed: For crying out loud
Here is a millstone to grow up with: big boys don't cry.