Sinead Keegan

Oh, Boston, you're my home. As many of you know, I spent my very happy childhood in the City of Boston. So this week has been surreal. We say "surreal" but what does that mean? What is real? Surely explosions, highspeed car chases and my family being told not to leave their homes is very real. It certainly feels real. And also, very far away. T-shirt design from Chowdaheadz

Just before 7pm on Tuesday I got the email that everyone dreams of getting from their spouse who's abroad. Think there was just an earthquake here. What? First of all, when you're advising your wife of a life threatening situation in which you currently find yourself it is customary to end said advisory with "I love you." Or really anything in that vein. Not my fella. He's more the facts guy. I, naturally, immediately conjure up images of the sky scraper he's in swaying violently and the reclaimed land of Boston's financial district liquifying and the building sinking into the Atlantic. Then I read the message one more time and catch the all important word: think . Right, well, if he only think s it's an earthquake and has the email access to notify me, it's unlikely he's currently swimming for the newly defined Massachusetts shoreline. It reminded me of my first earthquake. I was living in Peru at the time with a lovely family and wa...