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Tag Archives: short story
Gobbet
Gobbet [noun]; /gɒbɪt/; Middle English gobet, from Old French gober, to swallow; 14th century. 1: small piece or morsel (e.g. of meat); 2: lump, viscous mass; 3: short piece, fragment, or extract of text; 4: small quantity of liquid, drop. Example: Walking past Castle Court … Continue reading
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Tagged Belfast, Castle Court, disgust, gob, Gobbet, Jason O'Rourke, Kate Moss, Literature, Marilyn Monroe, phlegm, short story, writing
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South Central Belfast
Rare birds have flown thousands of miles to land on the Lower Ormeau Road. It is a glorious summer Saturday and I am going across town to visit a friend who lives on the Antrim Road. They are standing outside … Continue reading
Blue Valentines, Part II.
Looking back, just over a year later, I can still remember it with amazing clarity. It is cold today – as it was on that day, a week after Valentine’s. I am cosy beside a glowing coal fire as I … Continue reading
Blue Valentines
Valentine’s Day didn’t start well: I’d woken way before the alarm, and then been forced to eat an unwanted early breakfast. Still half-asleep, I burned the toast. Before my ultrasound scan at the City Hospital, I was required to fast … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Belfast, Belfast City Hospital, Billet-Doux, Botanic Gardens, Florentino Ariza, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Jason O'Rourke, KFC, Literature, loneliness, love, Love in the Time of Cholera, love letter, Ormeau Bridge, Ormeau Road, Queen's University, Rugby Avenue, short story, Spring, Valentine's Card, Valentine's Day, writing
10 Comments
Go Ahead
It’s been a miserable week so far, what with the news about Jim’s dad needing chemo, and the heavy snow interrupting things. I really don’t understand how one night of snowfall can bring the whole city to a standstill like … Continue reading
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Tagged Agincourt Avenue, Belfast, Bodhrán, Botanic Gardens, Chemotherapy, Cormorant, Green Man, ice, Jason O'Rourke, Literature, lovers, Lower Ormeau Road, Maysfield, Ormeau Road, Peace, Rhododendron, River Lagan, Rutland Street, sculpture, Seamus Heaney, short story, slush, snow, snowball fight, snowman, Stranmillis Embankment, The Market, Tin Whistle, Witch Hazel, writing
4 Comments
Jammy Dodger
I’d finished Dublin Road and was starting on Donegall Pass, opposite the Police Station. My day hadn’t got off to a great start: some gent had caught us parked on the double yellows outside our office earlier and had passed … Continue reading
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Tagged Belfast, Botanic Avenue, Donegall Pass, Dublin Road, hypocrisy, jam, Jason O'Rourke, kindness, Literature, parking, Parking Ticket, short story, traffic warden, writing
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Doleful
In the 90s they used to hide behind screens of bullet-proof glass at Shaftesbury Square dole office. They needed them. The barrier fostered abuse of power, rage, fear, oppression, and violence. It encouraged those civil servants who were disposed towards … Continue reading
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Tagged 1980s, 1990s, abuse of power, Belfast, bullet-proof glass, class war, Cold War, Conservatives, disaffection, Dole Office, Don King, Ghost Town, inequality, Jason O'Rourke, Literature, Margaret Thatcher, media maniplulation, One in Ten, Queen and David Bowie, racism, recession, security guards, Shaftesbury Square, short story, Specials, UB40, Under Pressure, Unemployment, writing
2 Comments
Political Football
He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Simple as that. It could so easily have been me. I am still selfishly grateful that he was there in front of me, that his action saved me from the … Continue reading
Vernacularisms 