Introducing my new podcast, In the Vicar's Daughter's Bedroom. A mix of memories and childhood whimsy of growing up in a Lancashire vicarage in the 1950s and 1960s. Auto-fiction written and read by yours truly. Listen to the first episode: https://anchor.fm/eithnenightingale In the coming days you will be able to listen via most popular podcast … Continue reading In the Vicar’s Daughter’s Bedroom
Sicily in the Snow
The hail came first and then it turned to snow - the first time for decades that Erice, this walled medieval town in the west of Sicily, had been doused in white. I clung to door knockers, church gargoyles and crumbling stone walls. It was as though some trickster had polished the ancient cobbles with … Continue reading Sicily in the Snow
Mourning Circle of Misse
A room overlooking furrowed fields, a swollen river and poplars bearing cluster bombs of mistletoe. Writers above me; writers beside me overlooking the garden and the abbey beyond. I cannot see Wayne, our writing mentor, and Catherine, a writer taking a break from the text. But I know where they are. They’re in the garden … Continue reading Mourning Circle of Misse
The House in the Wild – or a retreat with a difference
The coach climbs through thick forests towards Mont Tremblant. I glimpse stretches of water through the trees, surrounded by houses with gardens that go down to the water’s edge. Perfect for a summer vacation - a barbecue of elk, a moonlit dip. Ski slopes slice through the firs reminding me how snow and ice will … Continue reading The House in the Wild – or a retreat with a difference
Room with an Unexpected View
Sick, damn it. Sick. And my first time in Montreal too. Taxi straight from the train station to Hotel Le Roberval picked out at random on the internet, down some Advil and retreat under the sheets with the air conditioner on full blast. I try to sleep but people are chatting under my window, … Continue reading Room with an Unexpected View
So boring, so backward – a child migrant’s view of her adopted country
I sat beside her on the train, noticed her hands shaking like a sycamore leaf. Outstretched, sturdy but still shaking, clasping her paper cup of Starbucks coffee. The train was shaking too. A great, grey rattlesnake clanking its way through the Canadian countryside. “Does the landscape get more interesting?” I asked. “No,” she asserted. “It … Continue reading So boring, so backward – a child migrant’s view of her adopted country
“At last, I am free” – a visit to the National Museum of African and American History and Culture
I stroll past Trump International whose tycoon owner was once accused of denying homes to black applicants. Moreover, in an attempt to oust the first African American from the Presidency, he persisted with the racist fantasy that Obama was born outside the USA. I mutter Michelle’s words, “When they go low, we go high. … Continue reading “At last, I am free” – a visit to the National Museum of African and American History and Culture
A dream deferred is a dream no longer – Dedication Ceremony for the NMAAHC
I pass a stall holder doing a roaring trade in Black Lives Matter T shirts, badges and carrier bags featuring the President and First Lady. A limousine drives past and a cheer, as in a Mexican wave, ripples through the crocodile of people weaving along the Mall. Barack and Michelle wave through the limousine’s black … Continue reading A dream deferred is a dream no longer – Dedication Ceremony for the NMAAHC
A boarding pass to a new life at Bremerhaven Emigration Centre
I stroll along the quayside at Bremerhaven from where 7 million people left for the New World between 1830 and 1974. I am heading for the German Emigration Centre that won the European Museum of the Year Award in 2007. I enter a spacious modern building, framed in lattice wood. The receptionist hands me a … Continue reading A boarding pass to a new life at Bremerhaven Emigration Centre
A town within a town -Ballinstadt Emigration Museum in Hamburg
I peep through a porthole over Hamburg harbour just as many migrants must have done when they left for the New World over a century ago. But unlike the migrants I am on dry land in my cabin-inspired room in the Hotel Hafen Hamburg, previously a seafarers' home. The hotel is decked out with seafaring … Continue reading A town within a town -Ballinstadt Emigration Museum in Hamburg
Eithne Nightingale 