Kathleen MacMahon: When did I become a relic of an unimaginably distant past?

I thought I belonged to the generation that broke the mould but, to my children, I seem as prehistoric as my parents did to me

Dublin looking decidedly old-fashioned in the 1980s

I’d love to have my grandfather back for a few days. His name was Tom MacMahon, and he was born this week in April 1898, which would make him a hundred and twenty-four if he was alive. The son of an RIC sergeant stationed in Killorglin, Co Kerry, he became a civil engineer, an IRA volunteer, a prisoner during the Civil War, an entrepreneur and a lifelong opera lover. I’d love to spend a few ...