Tinker Tailor Student Spy

My dad died yesterday.

One month ago, I packed my life up in Oxford and drove seven hours up to Edinburgh, Scotland.

My father is one of the smartest people I know.

My sleep last night was plagued by strange dreams of tangled forests, cragged mountains, and the heady sounds of warfare.

It was pouring with rain, I was hungover and exhausted, and had time to kill before my Airbnb in North Belfast opened.

Two weeks ago, I found myself sitting on a dilapidated deck chair in a rather muddy field at Shakespeare camp in Stratford-upon-Avon, listening to an octogenarian read aloud from Macbeth.

Recently, I was showing a friend around Oxford when I noticed her staring at me intently.

I was 13 when I discovered Charles Dickens for the first time.

As Barbie herself might say, "There’s no such thing as too much pink!".

My favourite thing to do at any concert is to watch the people around me.

It's no secret that I love watching documentaries. True crime, missing planes, the dark underbelly of the wellness world—you name it, I’m there.

As anyone who has met me in real life can attest, I can be a bit of a hothead.

Recently, I found myself queuing for an overpriced glass of wine in a darkened theatre at London’s West End.

Like most children growing up in the ’90s and early ’00s, I was obsessed with Harry Potter.

There is, as author Carmel McMahon notes in the introduction to In Ordinary Time, an old Irish phrase, "uaigneas an chladaigh", which means, "the sense of loneliness on the shore; a haunting...

Yesterday was International Women’s Day (IWD), an annual celebration of the social, economic, cultural and political achievements of women, and a reminder of the importance of gender equality and...