Gerard O'Regan: A sound of silence echoes along the empty midnight streets as bitter cold recession lingers on
AS I began to drive in from the Dublin suburbs to the city centre, the chimes of midnight played out their somnolent sounds on the car radio.
It was the witching hour. Not surprising then that much of embattled Ireland had settled down for the night.
William Shakespeare's ode to the recuperative powers of sleep stirred somewhere in the subconscious. "The death of each day's life . . . balm of hurt minds . . . chief nourisher in life's feast."