Appetite For Distraction

Appetite For Distraction
Curtain-twitching on a busy inner-city Dublin street: on a particularly good day, you might see a crime

It’s a funny thing, on our lovely road, to be behind twitching curtains, wondering whether to phone the gardaí, but I’m luckier than the kids in the street

You know the way they say women turn into their mothers? Well, I’ve skipped that step and turned into my granny. You see, Granny lived her later life in what we fondly called “the valley of the peeping curtains”. Not a thing happened in that little cul-de-sac without the lace – and the curtains were always lace, for maximum peeping – twitching as each neighbour did a survey of who was parking where or who was visiting who or, if it was the 80s or 90s, how many British Army soldiers were in the front garden. Granny lived in Fermanagh, near the border, so this was a common sight.

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