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The Irish Sun
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Irish Sun
‘I'm not able', cries RTE star Kathryn Thomas as she shares heartwarming gesture amid hectic Rose of Tralee prep
'We all called her Rose. I'm not able... pray for Rose' KIND STAR 'I'm not able', cries RTE star Kathryn Thomas as she shares heartwarming gesture amid hectic Rose of Tralee prep RTE star Kathryn Thomas has shared the heartfelt gesture she made to a rescue kitten ahead of the Rose of Tralee. The TV star has had a hectic few days, after her holiday in Greece ended in disaster as she prepared to come home to co-host the Rose of Tralee festival. 3 Kathryn made an unexpected stop en route to Kerry Credit: Instagram 3 Kathryn was heading to Tralee to host the annual Rose of Tralee festival Credit: Instagram Advertisement While on the road, Kathryn came across a tiny white and grey kitten that had been injured and desperately needed help. Kathryn shared a photo of the kitten lying across the backseat of her car and on top of her notes for the festival. She wrote: "Picked up this poor little angel on the motorway roundabout with cars literally driving over her. "She couldn't move and it looked like her back legs were broken." Advertisement She explained how she couldn't bear to leave the little one alone and desperately attempted to find it some help. Kathryn continued: "Googled Tralee vets, rang one who refused to take her and then rang Abbey Veterinary Centre on Church St, who told me to bring her in. "She peed and what all over my Rose of Tralee briefs on the way there, but vet Deirdre Cremins, the angel that she is, thinks she has a chance. "All the staff were so lovely as I had to run but said they'd keep me updated. We all called her Rose. I'm not able... pray for Rose." Advertisement While in Tralee for the next six nights, Kathryn is staying in The Meadowlands Hotel. Kathryn Thomas opens up getting 'jitter' ahead of live Rose of Tralee shows When she checked in after her cat rescue, Kathryn shared a clip of her stunning hotel room, where the staff had thoughtfully prepared everything she'd need for her hosting duties. The Meadowlands team placed a rail for Kathryn's outfits in the room and also left a packet of Blu Tack so she could stick all her notes about the Roses on the wardrobe. Hours after dropping off the ailing kitten, Kathryn shared a heartwarming update on the feline's condition. Sharing a gorgeous photo of the kitten, she wrote: "A little pic of Rose from Deirdre at Abbey Veterinary centre this morning. Advertisement 3 Kathryn issued an update hours later to fans "Cannot thank Bryan and the whole team enough. Look at her, she's so alert." Earlier last week, ahead of her stint on the national broadcaster hosting the Rose of Tralee, Kathryn shared a terrifying update with her fans. The former Operation Transformation host had been enjoying a sun-soaked family trip in Greece over the past week - but disaster struck when it was time to pack up and go home. Kathryn and her husband Padraig McLaughlin had been staying on Andros island with their two daughters, Grace and Ellie. Advertisement TRAVEL TROUBLE Andros can only be reached by boat transport, and the closest airport is Athens, which is a 2-hour ferry. As the TV star and her family set off to get home to Ireland, they quickly realised the boat could not sail as winds on the sea were dangerous. The 45-year-old told fans on Instagram: "All ferries to Athens are cancelled due to unprecedented high winds and we've now missed our flight." The Carlow native expressed her panic as she added: "Nobody could tell us for certain when the ferries would run again... an absolute nightmare."
Sydney Morning Herald
10-06-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
I posted my holiday shots on Instagram and no one believes they're real
Not too long ago, I found myself in Switzerland. I had just celebrated a milestone birthday and decided that a suitable way to mark reaching a mildly terrifying age was to view some very impressive mountains up close. And when I say up close, I mean from the safety and comfort of an air-conditioned train carriage. Most of the two-hour journey was frankly breathtaking: perfectly hydrated green valleys, sugar-dusted mountains and small herds of cows that looked as though they had been grazing on Valium-infused grass. I hadn't intended to pull out my phone and start filming videos like a basic tourist, but that is what I did. And then, in an even more basic tourist move, I uploaded those videos to my Instagram stories. My partner, a truly empathic and thoughtful person, has a policy of not posting photographic evidence of holidays on social media because he doesn't want to make other people feel bad about not being on holiday. (Yes, I know – he is too pure for this world.) I, on the other hand, am a few rungs down on the evolutionary ladder, and have been known to post a small selection of holiday highlights on Instagram. I do set myself some guidelines, though: I don't post every day (I don't want to be unfollowed, or worse, hate-followed), and I try not to clog people's feeds with generic, postcard-style photos. But something about the way the sun hit those Alps on that day, coupled with access to a miniature bottle of Schnapps, made me hurl my self-imposed rulebook over a metaphorical rainbow. Thus began my posting spree. I wasn't expecting much of a reaction to my videos, maybe a few little red hearts fizzing upwards in that cute way of theirs, or some vague exclamations of delight from people who still tolerated me even though I was rudely posting my holiday on Instagram. Instead, I received a handful of friendly but incredulous direct messages, wanting to know if the videos were real. To be fair, the scenery did look as though it had been subjected to digital interference. Had I not sat on that train recording mountains with one hand while thrusting chocolate into my face with the other, I, too, would have assumed that the videos were AI-generated. I reassured everyone that not only were the images very real, they didn't even require a filter. I ended my message to each of my benign inquisitors with my customary sign-off: #blessed. (Just kidding – only a Millennial would do that.) Being duped by an AI-generated image reminds me of the time a student offered me what I thought was a Lindt ball but actually turned out to be a perfectly spherical glob of Blu Tack in a Lindt ball wrapper. That's what AI images feel like to me – a gross, old piece of Blu Tack in a shiny wrapper handed to me by a budding psychopath. Lately, whenever I'm confronted with a display of stupendous beauty on social media, my first instinct is to suspect AI and to curse the grubby little way it messes with my head. I worry that, sooner or later, we'll all stop asking 'Is this even real?' because we'll just assume that it isn't. And we won't even care any more. There was a time, not so long ago, when I still believed everything I saw on my feed. In the murky depths of lockdown, I fell in love with a photo of a Gaudi-inspired pink house and promptly added it to my mental bucket list. But a few months later, when I tried to locate the house online, it turned out to be nothing but a big glob of Blu Tack sculpted by a digital psychopath that had never had its heart broken by anyone or anything. Loading AI does not care about you, your heart, or the planet: ChatGPT chews up 10 times more electricity than a ye olde Google search, burning fossil fuels in the process. Moreover, the infrastructure required to run AI data centres consumes ungodly amounts of water, which is a problem in a world where a quarter of the population suffers from insufficient access to it. Maybe we should keep this in mind the next time we feel the urge to see a dog in human form, or a human in dog form, or to be reassured by an AI therapist that we are not narcissists but the people who mistreat us definitely are.
The Age
10-06-2025
- The Age
I posted my holiday shots on Instagram and no one believes they're real
Not too long ago, I found myself in Switzerland. I had just celebrated a milestone birthday and decided that a suitable way to mark reaching a mildly terrifying age was to view some very impressive mountains up close. And when I say up close, I mean from the safety and comfort of an air-conditioned train carriage. Most of the two-hour journey was frankly breathtaking: perfectly hydrated green valleys, sugar-dusted mountains and small herds of cows that looked as though they had been grazing on Valium-infused grass. I hadn't intended to pull out my phone and start filming videos like a basic tourist, but that is what I did. And then, in an even more basic tourist move, I uploaded those videos to my Instagram stories. My partner, a truly empathic and thoughtful person, has a policy of not posting photographic evidence of holidays on social media because he doesn't want to make other people feel bad about not being on holiday. (Yes, I know – he is too pure for this world.) I, on the other hand, am a few rungs down on the evolutionary ladder, and have been known to post a small selection of holiday highlights on Instagram. I do set myself some guidelines, though: I don't post every day (I don't want to be unfollowed, or worse, hate-followed), and I try not to clog people's feeds with generic, postcard-style photos. But something about the way the sun hit those Alps on that day, coupled with access to a miniature bottle of Schnapps, made me hurl my self-imposed rulebook over a metaphorical rainbow. Thus began my posting spree. I wasn't expecting much of a reaction to my videos, maybe a few little red hearts fizzing upwards in that cute way of theirs, or some vague exclamations of delight from people who still tolerated me even though I was rudely posting my holiday on Instagram. Instead, I received a handful of friendly but incredulous direct messages, wanting to know if the videos were real. To be fair, the scenery did look as though it had been subjected to digital interference. Had I not sat on that train recording mountains with one hand while thrusting chocolate into my face with the other, I, too, would have assumed that the videos were AI-generated. I reassured everyone that not only were the images very real, they didn't even require a filter. I ended my message to each of my benign inquisitors with my customary sign-off: #blessed. (Just kidding – only a Millennial would do that.) Being duped by an AI-generated image reminds me of the time a student offered me what I thought was a Lindt ball but actually turned out to be a perfectly spherical glob of Blu Tack in a Lindt ball wrapper. That's what AI images feel like to me – a gross, old piece of Blu Tack in a shiny wrapper handed to me by a budding psychopath. Lately, whenever I'm confronted with a display of stupendous beauty on social media, my first instinct is to suspect AI and to curse the grubby little way it messes with my head. I worry that, sooner or later, we'll all stop asking 'Is this even real?' because we'll just assume that it isn't. And we won't even care any more. There was a time, not so long ago, when I still believed everything I saw on my feed. In the murky depths of lockdown, I fell in love with a photo of a Gaudi-inspired pink house and promptly added it to my mental bucket list. But a few months later, when I tried to locate the house online, it turned out to be nothing but a big glob of Blu Tack sculpted by a digital psychopath that had never had its heart broken by anyone or anything. Loading AI does not care about you, your heart, or the planet: ChatGPT chews up 10 times more electricity than a ye olde Google search, burning fossil fuels in the process. Moreover, the infrastructure required to run AI data centres consumes ungodly amounts of water, which is a problem in a world where a quarter of the population suffers from insufficient access to it. Maybe we should keep this in mind the next time we feel the urge to see a dog in human form, or a human in dog form, or to be reassured by an AI therapist that we are not narcissists but the people who mistreat us definitely are.
