Sinead Keegan

As you all know. I am currently consumed with Olympic excitement (saw a clatter of top athletes yesterday...whetting your appetite for another day's update), but today belongs to the very talented Iain Broome and his debut novel, A is for Angelica, which launches tomorrow in ebook format and in September in paperback. Iain's debut novel is an extraordinary look into the day to day life of Gordon, a man struggling to cope under enormous pressure at home. His wife is very ill and Gordon suddenly finds himself as her primary caretaker in what should be the prime of their lives. He feels isolated from his neighbors about whom he keeps meticulous notes, compiled as he secretly watches their every move. Gordon is at once a character that made me feel profoundly uncomfortable, sad and then laugh aloud. Broome quietly weaves a complex picture of Gordon's past and present through the tiniest and most mundane of details. When I first sat down to read the novel on a Saturday morni...

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with sports. I love playing sports, but I'm generally mediocre at best. I love going to sports events live, but generally hate watching them on television. When it comes to the Olympics, I love the sports, I love the international celebration, but I hate the corporate nonsense. I've never lived in an Olympic city before, but it seems particularly bad here in London. All sorts of things have been banned in order to protect the corporate sponsors of the games (I won't say who they are, but they're not necessarily well-known for promoting good health or active lifestyles). Local businesses aren't allowed to use any advertising containing "2012", "London", "Olympics", the Olympic rings and the list goes on. I'm not upset about the IOC protecting their name, their brand, their logos, but 2012? Really? It's the bloody year. London? It's still the name of the city where I live. Surely if we ...

Lest you all think that all we did was munch on tapas in Seville, we didn't we also enjoyed what has been called the most beautiful city in Spain. It's gorgeous. Soaring Moorish architecture, orange trees lining the streets (where did you thing Seville oranges came from?) and lots of pedestrian and bicycle friendly streets. We had a wonderful, if scorchingly hot, three-ish days wandering around the city. It's infinitely walkable and all the street side cafes make for amazing people watching. But you know all about the food and drink from this post and about the people watching we did from this one , so I'll spare you the repetition. Instead, I'll tell you all about the life of Seville, which it has in abundance. Just not in the late afternoon, when the tourists are the only people silly enough to be dragging themselves around in the blistering heat. Seville from la Giralda

So, as you know, we went to Spain at the end of June and it was, I can officially confirm, fantastico ! Dublin airport being the booming metropolis of international travel that it is, we couldn't get a flight direct to Seville, so we headed off to Malaga instead. The drive from Malaga to Seville, though, is actually quite lovely, lots of sunflowers and a couple of enormous bull-shaped cutouts. By enormous, I mean at least as high as a multistory house. What purpose they serve other than to go on postcards is unclear, but it is an entertaining diversion on a long drive.   Slightly - but only slightly - less entertaining than shouting, Look! A gigantic bull cutout! was watching the field of sunflowers go by. As we drove through the afternoon, we passed acres upon acres of these cheerful yellow flowers and every single flower was facing the same direction, like armies of happiness. Our shocking lack of botanical knowledge left us scratching our heads as to the reason for this. But ...

Now I'm sure you're all massive bodhran fans so you also know all about Craiceann . What's that you say? You have no idea what I'm on about and suspect that I might be making up words? Ah, well, ye uninitiated, I'm not. I write all of this in seriousness, but with a pinch of divilment. The bodhran (pronounced "BOUGH-rawn") is the traditional drum of Ireland. It's made by stretching goatskin over a round wooden frame. The musician then strikes the drum with a stick - which come in ever increasing varieties - while using his or her other hand to control the tone and timbre by moving it on the back of the skin. The best players can create entire songs with just the drum, hitting a wide range of notes and creating a depth of sound that is incredible from such a simple instrument. And every year the little Gaeltacht island of Inis O í rr hosts a week-long celebration of this instrument called Craiceann. Using the tried and true method of judging an...

What time of the year is that? Why the time of maple leaves and seas of red, of course: Canada Day! To all my dedicated Canadian readers, I hope you had a very, very lovely day filled with Tim-bits, maple syrup and politeness. Now my non-Canadian readers are probably scratching their heads at the first of those wishes. Allow me to reassure you that, along with Rush and Mike Myers, Tim-bits are one of Canada's finest exports. Delicious little bites of donut. Allow me to recommend highly the amazing sour cream glazed variety. They are two nibbles - I like to make them last - of pure joy. Tim Hortons Timbits courtesy of their website