The Magic Mats
Blue the talking mat was having a great day, until he saw his best friend Pink the talking mat. He had a surprise for Pink, but didn't want her to see it. He was nervous.
They played hide and seek together, and she hid in the garden so he couldn't find her. He thought Pink the talking mat got lost.
Blue bought Pink infrared goggles for her birthday that can see through walls. He decided to use them to find her. He looked everywhere in the house, but he still couldn't find her.
He went into the garden, found her and brought her to the kitchen to show her the surprise. It was a huge party with all of her friends.
READ MORE
While the party was going on, a giant came to the house. He was not invited. Pink and Blue did not know him at all; he just showed up.
Blue was very worried when he saw him. He was terrified of being stepped on. So, he grabbed on to to Pink's hand and ran away. When they held hands they mixed colours and turned purple. Blue knew he felt safe. He changed his name to Purple. The giant was actually nice.
Illustration supplied by first class, Scoil Chríost Rí
'Wait!' He shouted. 'I don't want to step on you!'
They believed him, so they all sat in the garden and had a picnic with some cake.
Pink loved her surprise party, so she wanted to do something nice for Purple. She knew he wanted to be a millionaire, so she entered him into the lottery.
Pink wrapped the lottery box and waited for Purple to open it ...
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Irish Times
2 hours ago
- Irish Times
How to stage an Irish music festival: From All Together Now to Beyond the Pale
Tens of thousands of music fans will arrive at outdoor festivals around Ireland this summer, hauling bags stuffed with battery packs and wet wipes for a weekend camping in a field they pray stays dry. It can feel like entering a separate society. Hordes of people mill from campsite to stage to food truck; queues form for everything from toilets to patches of grass; flags and art installations dot the site as community hubs. It can be difficult to imagine the space as anything other than the makeshift city in front of you, but just a few days earlier there will have been nothing in its place. Then, almost as soon as the event ends, logistics planning for next year begins – including, if the festival is growing, how to tweak facilities to cater for more people. A small change can have a big effect. At the end of June, for example, the more than 200,000 music fans who'll descend on Worthy Farm, in southwest England, for Glastonbury will be served by the festival's own reservoir. READ MORE The organisers built it to provide up to three million litres of free water each day for festivalgoers to fill their reusable bottles with after banning single-use plastic bottles in 2019. Glastonbury is almost three times the size of its nearest Irish competitor, with more than 100 stages and more than 2,000 acts, so the move made a big difference; before then it had faced a mountain of waste after each three-day event, including 40 tonnes of single-use plastic bottles, or well over 1.5 million of them (alongside almost 45 tonnes of aluminium cans). In the United States, Coachella attracts about 125,000 festivalgoers on each of its two consecutive weekends. (The line-up is the same at each, to increase overall capacity to 250,000 people a year.) This year, fans said, seemingly minor changes to its campsite arrangements left some of them stuck in traffic for up to 12 hours as they queued to get in to the site. The domino effect may be most significant for these gigantic international events, but attention to detail is paramount at any festival. We asked some key people to tell us how it all works. All Together Now All Together Now: Declan McKenna on the main stage. Photograph: Aiesha Wong First-year capacity of 15,000 people 2025 capacity of 30,000 people Core team of about 15 people About 700 people involved in the build and break phases 3,000-3,500 people work on-site during the live event It takes one day to put up a tented stage at ATN and several days for the main stage For All Together Now , which is set to host 30,000 attendees at Curraghmore Estate, in Co Waterford, over the August bank holiday weekend, planning for 2026 will begin in September. Details are reviewed – access routes can be revised, stages and vendors repositioned, and lighting plans refined. This is the sixth edition of ATN, and capacity has doubled since year one. The festival's core team is about 15 people, but that expands significantly as the event approaches. Up to 700 people construct the site during the build and break phase. (Most stay nearby or commute from home rather than setting up camp, but as the festival gets closer some of them move into camper-vans or tents.) For the live event, that number jumps to between 3,000 and 3,500 people, including traders, security, crew and other staff. All Together Now: Fans enjoying the festival at Curraghmore Estate, Co Waterford in 2024. Photograph: Gareth Chaney 'You get to know the land really well – how the water flows, where the sun hits, the best angles for stage placement, how to avoid sound spill and so on – and we make small improvements every year based on what we've learned,' says Helena Burns of Pod Festivals, which also oversees Forbidden Fruit and In the Meadows. With experience, she says, the organisational process has become smoother. 'Through the years we've added in new external permanent roads for better vehicle access for patrons, relocated vendor lines for better servicing, moved a major stage uphill for better ground conditions should we encounter severe weather, and more. 'While the site layout has evolved since the beginning, we haven't needed to make any major structural changes. The ATN site was designed with growth in mind, which has helped us scale up in a natural way.' All Together Now: Kiamos at the festival in 2024 A tented stage can go up in a day; a main stage takes several days. If cranes or plant machinery are required, trackway has to be laid. Tech production load-ins of sound, lighting and visual equipment happen last, taking another day or two. Logistics determine much of the site's layout, but beyond that there is a big focus on aesthetics. 'Logistics definitely play a part in the placement of installations and stages – we have to consider access, power, sight lines and safety, and so much more – but they don't dictate the creative vision,' Burns says. 'If we love an idea, we'll do everything we can to make it work.' 'We collaborate closely with artists, creative partners and sponsors to shape the festival's look and feel. Everything is installed with purpose – from colourful canopies and light installations to sculptures and projections, we're always aiming to create something new and visually exciting.' Beyond the Pale Beyond the Pale First-year capacity under 5,000 2025 capacity of 12,000 Generator-powered but doesn't use fossil fuels Green efforts are part of festival's agenda – last year only six tents were left behind In its first year at the Glendalough Estate, in Co Wicklow, in 2022, Beyond the Pale had a capacity of under 5,000. By 2024 it had reached 10,000, and this June the festival will welcome 12,000 festivalgoers. The acts play to crowds that range from more than 9,000 people at the main stage right down to about 100 people at the event's most intimate stage. Overall, the organisers say, Beyond the Pale is still small enough to maintain its boutique feel. When it comes to putting on each year's event, access is one of the biggest considerations, according to festival producer Kate Farnon. 'The site can be tricky,' she says. 'It's kind of in a valley, so access is sometimes difficult, with different types of vehicles and so on. That's always the first consideration. Last year the site expanded and changed quite a bit. If you're anticipating larger numbers you have to look at site layout and make sure that you can handle the new capacity in infrastructure and egress. 'At this point the festival has the luxury of being able to incorporate more space. It's also designed in a way that the campsite is very close to the main arena. I think that's a big plus for punters. If they need to nip back to get something it's not a big hike. It's quite a compact site, and I think that really impacts how people experience it.' Beyond the Pale festival at Glendalough, Co Wicklow Providing power for thousands of people in a concentrated area is difficult, and festivals tend to require generators. In an effort to be greener, Beyond the Pale powers them with hydrotreated vegetable oil, a biofuel. It also uses as much wind-generated battery power as it can, but that's still an expensive technology. Finding a more sustainable mode of power supply and stepping away from generators are high on the agenda for the coming years, Farnon says. 'There is a real movement towards being more efficient with power, and I think there are some exciting things happening in that area. It's a big area for a festival to move in to, because it's going to make such a massive difference in terms of footprint. For most punters and festivalgoers, it's a shadow over the fun of going to a music festival.' Last year Beyond the Pale had 15 stages. The look of the site is important to sponsors as well as organisers. With Glendalough as a backdrop, the goal is to fit in to the environment. 'I think the biggest limitations are temporary structures,' Farnon says. 'They are what they are. They don't have a huge amount of variation, but going back to the functionality and the health and safety, they have the engineers' sign-off. At times you'll see something new come along.' Forest Fest Forest Fest: The Cult on stage at the Co Laois music festival in 2024. Photograph: Brian Bastick 2025 capacity of 12,000 On-site preparations begin 10 days before the festival Five stages on less than 20 acres of land Construction of festival infrastructure takes about 72 hours It takes about 10 days to prepare Emo Park, in Co Laois, for Forest Fest, where capacity matches Beyond the Pale's 12,000. Safety and security are arranged before staging crews arrive, trucking in the larger structures in the space of two or three days. Light and sound crews follow. The site is less than 20 acres, and its five stages are constructed next to each other to minimise walking for guests – Forest Fest positions itself as an event for a more mature audience. 'The focus was and remains always on the quality of the music and the quality of the product,' says Philip Meagher, the festival's founder. 'We never wanted to go to a large-scale event where that gets diluted. We've insisted that the numbers stay at a very manageable level and that all of the facilities – including parking and sites for campervans and tents and so forth – are very convenient to the venue.' Forest Fest: Dexys on stage at the Co Laois music festival in 2024. Photograph: Fionn Mulvey An older audience, Meagher says, tends to be more discerning. There is less focus on decor and more on functionality. The main logistical difficulty for Forest Fest is accessing the site, a problem that has been made much easier over the last couple of years through the building of access roads. That has aided the organisational process as well as helping attendees with additional needs. 'Thankfully the number of wheelchair users and people with accessibility issues, those numbers have been growing year on year for us,' Meagher says. 'I think the word has gone out that we're a very handy, convenient site and it's on the flat. It's all very manageable. Basically, Emo becomes the venue – the village becomes the venue. All the roads are closed off and the whole community gets behind the event and welcomes people. 'Within the venue footprint is our local national school. That facility is made available for disability-access parking. Wheelchair users are able to drive directly in to the site – they're parking up on tarmac basketball courts and they're literally one minute away from the gate in to the venue.' Forest Fest: Some of the crowd at the Co Laois music festival in 2024. Photograph: Brian Bastick Every outdoor Irish festival has to deal with the looming threat of bad weather, and 2023 was a trial for Forest Fest, when storms delayed the arrival of equipment and some camper van guests had to be moved to a site not intended for use. Since then they have doubled down on contingency plans. 'I was being blue-lighted around in the back of a Garda car to farmers in the middle of the night, looking for brown bales of hay and sand,' Meagher says. 'The local community and farmers were unbelievable the way they supported us that year. Only for that support I don't think we would have been able to keep the gates open. It was a learning curve, but I'd never want to go through it again.' Vantastival SoFFt Productions , an arts organisation and production house, has been operating across a range of events for the past five years, sparked by SoFFt Nights, a series of outdoor, socially distanced gigs that it staged during the pandemic. At the centre of a core team of five are Conor Jacob and Natasha Duffy, who each have a wealth of experience in promotion and production management. SoFFt looks after staging and production for Irish events ranging from Live at the Marquee, in Cork, to concerts at the Iveagh Gardens, in Dublin. Duffy is the business's creative director; Jacob is head of design. When we speak they're focused on Vantastival , a weekend music and camper van festival in Louth in September. Regardless of the size of the event, Jacob explains, the process is similar. 'It's really important to always try and think holistically,' he says. 'Whether it's high stakes, with a lot of gear and a lot of people, or something intimate and small, people do inherently recognise when something feels right and when it doesn't. That has to be respected.' SoFFt's work usually involves three tiers of contributors. Outside of the five central figures, any project involves enlisting the help of freelancers and vendors. Beyond that there is a local crew described as the backbone of the production, who are crucial to the physical set-up. Versatility is vital to making the business function. 'On any one job we could be employing 30 people a day,' Jacob says. SoFFt has developed a reputation for events that cater for attendees with additional needs. It has worked with South Dublin County Council on programmes designed for neurodivergent audiences, and Duffy keeps a close eye on emerging trends in the space – she mentions Coldplay's use of vibrating vests to enhance hearing-impaired fans' concert experience. 'One of the first things we did when we were running SoFFt Nights during Covid was set up two different sensory areas for people who were neurodivergent,' she says. 'We had the sensory cave, where we had a neurodivergent artist build a big soundscape, and we turned it into a decompression zone. 'We spent a lot of time marketing that. The outcome was we had a lot more people with children with autism and ADHD at the events, because they knew they were welcome and that we were dedicating time, space and money to making sure the event was inclusive and accessible.' Though they also facilitate larger events, there is something about smaller, independent festivals that ties in with SoFFt's ethos. Logistically, it becomes more possible to attend to the needs of the individual. 'When you're doing something on a smaller scale you become really invested in the audience experience,' Duffy says. 'You become really interested. When they walk on-site, what are they seeing, feeling and experiencing? What sort of interactive, immersive elements might you have? 'Your design becomes so important because it's all about the vibe. It's all about the other people. It's about creating nice nooks and crannies for people to sit around and talk. With the smaller festivals as well, they're very much about community. By the end of Vantastival everybody has met each other and built up a rapport. That's probably one of the reasons it has maintained a loyal audience.'
Irish Times
5 hours ago
- Irish Times
Not caring about exams was teenage me's bluntest form of rebellion. My kids are different
It's not really exam weather, which is a minuscule mercy for all the young people sitting down at desks in school halls across the country. I don't remember much about the Junior Cert which in my day was called the Inter Cert, but I'm nearly sure it was exam-season sunny back then. In contrast, my daughters set off last week for their first exam under gloomy skies, clutching Leap cards and small plastic bags of pens and stationery. One daughter left her phone at home – 'too distracting' – but rang me from a friend's mobile minutes before the English exam so that I could read her some quotes from the battered flashcards she had left scattered across the kitchen table. She was hoping for a question that allowed exploration of her views on the character of Portia in Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. 'Her ingenious, immovable and intelligent self enables her to find a way around all obstacles,' my daughter had written on a bright yellow card in blue pen. 'Because she is a woman, her father is still controlling her even from the grave.' [ Broadcaster Andrea Gilligan on the Leaving: 'I think the A-level system in Northern Ireland is far superior' Opens in new window ] 'I have a whole feminist thing about Portia, Mum,' J told me as she went off to get the bus to her first State exam. 'Examiners totally eat that stuff up.' We had marked the auspicious occasion earlier by blasting out the song Drive It Like You Stole It from John Carney's film Sing Street, which is part of the curriculum. 'This is your life, you can go anywhere/You gotta grab the wheel and own it/You gotta put the pedal down/And drive it like you stole it.' My other daughter P danced about in the kitchen, energised by the message, and I thought about this wonderful world we live in where English in the Junior Cert now includes studying Carney as well as Heaney . READ MORE I watched the two of them leave and felt a bit emotional. I wasn't sure why but hearing Heaney's Mid-Term Break read out as part of a last-minute cram over breakfast definitely didn't help. The exams marked another milestone for the girls, I suppose. I rang a friend with daughters also doing the Junior Cert. She was teary too. We talked about how proud we were of them but also about the privilege of even being able to do exams when there are a 1½ million girls and young women being subjected to gender-persecution in Afghanistan, banned from attending secondary school or university, who would give anything to be in their position. We marvelled about how prepared our daughters seem to be, how invested in the challenge. I had been neither prepared nor invested in the lead-up to the Inter. I didn't care. My not caring was the bluntest form of rebellion. Caring about exams, according to teenage me, was too much like conforming. In fairness to her, she was a mixed-up kid. In yet another contrast, my daughters have spent much of the past couple of months in their local Starbucks or the library studying their heads off. Self-motivated, I think you'd call it. All I know is that I can take no credit for their industry. And while Starbucks might seem like an odd study hall, I'm assured the coffee chain is conducive to academic preparation. At various libraries across the city, from Kevin Street to Raheny, they've been congregating in groups with friends, going through their topics in studious solidarity. The wonderful innovation that is transition year will wipe the slate clean The relief that I was not having to nag them to hit the books was immense. I just didn't have it in me to nag. Whatever about the Leaving Cert , the Junior Cert really doesn't matter except as a practice run for that more significant and consequential exam and I was never going to pretend otherwise. Anyway, the wonderful innovation that is transition year will wipe the slate clean and then, in fifth year, all the people who flailed or foundered in the Junior Cert can find fresh motivation. Or not. And in the end, they won't be defined by exams or points or CAO options or by how much history or Shakespeare they could regurgitate as a teenager but by who they are as people. By how they made other people feel. There are no State exams to measure that. However it goes when those exam results envelopes are opened, all over the country, thousands of variously prepared or motivated young people have presented themselves to be examined. No matter what the outcome, they deserve our praise and admiration. These ingenious, immovable and intelligent boys and girls have been putting their best feet forward whatever that 'best' looks like, and we know 'best' is different for everyone depending on their personal circumstances. Some of them have parents who can afford maths grinds and Starbucks coffees, some know what it's like to go to school hungry or to have to study quadratic equations in a noisy hostel for the homeless. Watch them all now, on the final lap of this gruelling exam course. Grabbing the wheel. Driving it like they stole it. Legends, every single one of them.
Irish Times
a day ago
- Irish Times
Notions restaurant review: This is intelligent, considered food, without ceremony
Notions Address : 74 Francis St, The Liberties, Dublin 8, D08 KA43. Telephone : N/A Cuisine : Modern International Website : Cost : €€€ It's called Notions – which tells you everything and nothing. Once an insidious put-down designed to keep you in your place, it's now tossed around half-laughing by the same people who used to mean it. Oh, notions! – as if ambition were something to be embarrassed about. It's an interesting name for a restaurant – either dry wit with a flick of the fringe, or a quiet middle finger with polite defiance. Possibly both. Notions is what happens after Two Pups cafe on Francis Street, Dublin 8 , closes for the day and flips from flat whites to fermented funk. It's the evening shift – a hybrid wine bar and restaurant with no minimum spend. You can drop in for a glass and a couple of snacks, or do as we do: rifle through most of the menu, which runs on a spine of nibbles, snacks, and plates (small and large). The wine is natural – of course it is – organic or biodynamic, probably foot-stomped in a 200-year-old stone trough for Percheron horses. Everything's by the glass, arranged not by grape or region but by natty wine taxonomy – Go-To, Elegant & Playful, Lil' Funky, Mad Funky – a spectrum from 'you'll like this' to 'you might not, but at least it's interesting'. [ Summer 2025: 100 great places to eat around Ireland Opens in new window ] The staff are charming and quick with tasters. A few natty heads linger outside, but most – including two high-profile influencers – are just here for a good glass and a bite. We steer clear of the funkier stuff and go for a bottle of Château Coupe Roses (€48) – crunchy red fruit, bursts of bramble, a vin vivant – which throws off a reassuring amount of debris. READ MORE We start with sourdough (€6), baked that morning in Bold Boy, the in-house bakery. It's topped with whipped cod's roe and chives chopped with the kind of precision that would earn full marks from @ratemychives on Instagram. A Connemara oyster (€4) with jalapeño granita leaves my mouth tingling, the oyster's brine a prominent note against the heat of the granita. Notions, Francis Street, Dublin 8. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times And then on to the snacks, at €9 each. Radishes are piled on top of romesco sauce and dusted with hazelnuts. The romesco delivers a rich, peppery depth, lifted with a splash of wild garlic oil. Ham hock croquettes are made with a light hand – hot, loose, and smoky with Gubbeen, with an assertive mustard mayo. If you're a little croquetas-jaded, these will restore your faith. And the tempura of purple sprouting broccoli, dappled in filaments of a light crunchy batter, is glossed with gochujang mayo and dusted with nori powder. The small plates section is where the chef starts speaking in ingredient haiku: oyster mushroom, shimeji, black garlic, tarragon (€12). It is a great dish. The oyster mushroom and shimeji have an earthy, roasted edge, the black garlic smoulders, and the tarragon adds a bit of punch. Notions: From left, radish, romesco, chive oil and hazelnuts; asparagus, guanciale, gnocchi, Parmesan and cavolo nero; Connemara oyster with jalapeño granita; caramelised white chocolate, strawberries and buckwheat sponge. Photograph: Alan Betson Ham hock croquettes, mustard aioli with smoked Gubbeen. Photograph: Alan Betson Sommelier Finn Lowney and chef Andrew Kelly. Photograph: Alan Betson Crispy purple potato, greens, anchovy dressing (€14) turns out to be the dish of the evening. The Ballymakenny potatoes are smashed, cooked in their skins, and just this side of charred. The greens are a mix of rocket, kale and roasted spring onions, and the anchovy dressing is sharp, with a smoky finish pulling the whole thing together. On to the large plates and asparagus, guanciale, gnocchi, Parmesan, kale (€18) is smaller than expected – but the price reflects it. Pan-fried spears of asparagus are nestled alongside gnocchi and crispy cavolo nero in a Parmesan cream, with crispy guanciale adding a punch of salty umami. Iberico pork cheek, nduja, butter bean cassoulet, salsa verde (€26) is a satisfying dish. The meat is tender without falling into 'melts in the mouth' territory; the cassoulet is loose, thick, and rich with nduja heat; and the salsa verde is snappy, vivid with acidity, bringing a welcome counterpoint. For dessert, there's just one option – caramelised white chocolate, raspberries, and buckwheat sponge (€10), an unfussy end. The raspberries are sharp, the sponge is light and nutty, and the white chocolate comes in just enough to soften the edges. An unfussy end: Caramelised white chocolate, raspberries, and buckwheat sponge. Photograph: Alan Betson Andrew Kelly, who heads up the kitchen, has an impressive background – Ballymaloe, Noma , Bastible , Potager – and it shows. The food is intelligent, modern and deeply considered, but never overwrought. The kitchen works with a precision that quietly outclasses the influencer glow in the diningroom. There's technique, sure, but also restraint – the rarest thing in a city still impressed by edible flowers and truffle oil. There's no plate pile-up. No ceremony. The pacing just works. And Notions? For all the irony, all the shrugging cool, here's the joke: it's not style over substance. It's quite simply, substance, styled well. Dinner for three with a bottle of wine was €165. The Verdict: Small plates, natural wine, and no minimum spend. Food provenance: Crowe's Farm, Ballymakenny Farm, McNally Farm, La Rousse and Caterway. Vegetarian options: The menu is primarily vegetarian. Wheelchair access: Accessible room with no accessible toilet. Music: Soul, jazz and reggae.
