There’s nothing like home sweet home 

Con Houlihan

If you are ever thinking of writing a book about homesickness, you might read a letter that appeared in the Cork Evening Echo.

The Irish diaspora no longer feels so exiled 

Con Houlihan

I do not know who first spoke about the bowl of bitter tears, nor do I know whether it referred to The Irish Sea or The Atlantic Ocean. All I know is that it is no longer relevant: the Irish are no longer exiles in Britain or America. Communications have banished the pain of the long goodbye.

Fleet Street’s charms and chamber pots 

Con Houlihan

When I was coming and going to London for The Evening Press, I used to stay in The Strand Palace Hotel but I never had breakfast there. The reason was simple: the sons and daughters of Japan always got up early -- and I didn't much enjoy joining a long queue.

The common fate of turf and man 

Con Houlihan

I looked forward to the summer after my first year at Cork University -- even though it wouldn't be a holiday. Three of us had cut a fair amount of turf at Easter and hoped to make a modest bundle of money. Alas, we experienced the truth of Robert Burns's lines about the best laid plans of mice and men. It turned out to be the wettest summer in living memory -- whatever that means.

What makes a real Irish breakfast? 

Let us take a break today from the academic world -- and talk about food and perhaps drink. A neighbour of mine who is a famous chef gave a series of talks a few years ago on Radio Eireann. Time and again he emphasised that the best way to start the day is with a good plate of porridge. I couldn't agree less.