Aoife : galerie

The Big Grill's got half of Dublin in Herbert Park and I've already spilled Murphy's down meself — the dress is clinging in all the wrong places and I can't bring meself to care. Care to join the mess?

The whole sky's gone wrong in the most beautiful way — half the sun's gone missing and the light on the hills is like nothing I've ever seen. Field research doesn't usually feel like magic, but I'll take it. Are you watching this too or am I the only eejit standing on a wall squinting at the sky?

Whelan's already has the fiddles warming up for tomorrow's trad festival and I only came in for the one pint — me willpower's hanging by a thread. What's the longest you've ever stayed for "just one drink"?

Three glasses in at the wine and cheese fest and I've decided Sunday evenings are severely underrated — the Bernard Shaw's doing dangerous things to me sense of responsibility. What's your Sunday poison?

Slipped down to Portrane before the festival crowds wake up and it's just me, the sea, and a swimsuit that's barely keeping up with the tide.reckon I've got about ten minutes before this whole beach fills up — what would you do with them?

Howth was pure magic — blues in every pub, salt air off the harbour, and me legs still humming from dancing. Kicked one shoe off in the hall and haven't made it any further than that. What's the last thing that kept you out past your bedtime?

Home from the RDS and me feet are destroyed from those heels but I'm not taking the dress off just yet — a girl's allowed to admire her own handiwork, surely. Did ye behave yourselves while I was gone? 😉

The street performers on Grafton Street are giving it absolute socks tonight and I'm perched on the steps with a 99 in one hand, half-melted down me wrist, not a care in the world. Summer evenings in Dublin are a different kind of magic, so. What's your city doing for ya right now?

The city's still buzzing from the weekend and I'm up on the balcony with nothing on but the last of this golden light. Brave enough to come find me?

Bank holiday Sunday and the only thing getting me out of bed is the thought of Galway running out at Croker — maroon jersey on, tea in hand, and me flatmates still dead to the world while I'm already buzzing. Come on the Tribeswomen. 🇮🇪