Again, I find myself referring to Ireland’s greatest man of letters, Con Houlihan. Apologies if mention of the man who – as he put it himself – was born in a blizzard in December 1925 – has become a bit laboursome. It will be contended, though, that if a point retains credence, it warrants repetition.… Read More What is the past and will soon become the past gone in the space of a day