Latest news with #Deirdre
BBC News
24-05-2025
- General
- BBC News
Trussell Trust: Food banks 'picking up the slack' for the government
A single mother, from west Belfast, has said she doesn't know how her "children would have been fed" without food comes after the anti-poverty charity Trussell Trust released annual figures showing a 71% increase in the number of emergency food parcels distributed in Northern Ireland in the past year compared to five years figures show that more than 77,000 parcels were provided by food banks to people "facing hunger" in Northern Ireland over the past year. The charity says it's equivalent to "one parcel every seven minutes".Deirdre, a mother of two, said food banks were "a lifeline" for her. 'I didn't know what to do' Deirdre said she had worked since she was 15 and had three jobs to get herself through university, but turned to food banks after "having to come out of my professional job"."It was very embarrassing," she used to donate to food banks before having to turn to them for help."Little did I know that I would ever be in a position where I was going to be one of them people," she said."It was at a stage in my life where I didn't know what to do". 'Not surprised' The figures from Trussell show "significant" numbers of parents "struggling to afford the essentials".There has been a 68% rise in families with children needing emergency food, since 2019/20, and a 47% rise in parcels to support children under the age of charity said many food banks are reporting "severe levels of hardship", with some parents rationing their own food to feed their the organisation has seen a decrease in the total number of emergency food parcels distributed compared to the previous year, they said "the need for emergency food is still persistently high". Deirdre said people don't realise that "the working poor are still in need of food banks"."Nobody knows the situation they're ever going to face."Nobody knows whether or not you're going to lose a job. Nobody knows whether or not your mental health might change. Nobody knows what got you to the stage where you are going to have to avail of a food bank."Deirdre added that she's "really not surprised" by the number of people relying on food banks and called on the policy makers to do said there should not be a "need for food banks" adding that charities are "picking up the slack" for the government."All these decisions that people are making about cuts... are being made by people who have not experienced what we have experienced," she said. Deidre added: "I don't know how my children would have been fed" without food banks."I was too embarrassed to go to relatives."Without this help, Deirdre said: "I probably would have made sure they were okay and I wasn't.""That's the stark reality of the society that we live in today." 'Massive wake-up call' Fiona Cole, policy manager in Northern Ireland at Trussell, said: "A whole generation has now grown up in a country where sustained high levels of food bank need feels like the norm. "This should be a massive wake-up call to government.""We urgently need the Northern Ireland Executive to deliver on the original ambition for an anti-poverty strategy."She added: "The Westminster government will fail to improve living standards unless it rows back on its harmful policy choices on disability benefits, support for children, and housing support." 'It's not right' Ken Scott, manager of Bangor Foodbank and Community Support, said: "Our food bank is seeing far too many people who are forced to need our help."Food donations are not keeping up with the level of need we are seeing, and this is putting us under a lot of strain."It's not right that anyone should be forced to turn to charity for emergency food," he added. Deirdre said the reason people are going to food banks is "not because we mismanage money. It's not because we can't budget. It's because there isn't enough to budget.""Universal Credit is not enough to live on."
RTÉ News
20-05-2025
- Sport
- RTÉ News
Olympian, Cleric, Brigadista: Robert Hilliard's Enigmatic Life
We present an extract from Swift Blaze of Fire, the new biography by Lin Rose Clark. Celebrated in song by Christy Moore and affectionately recalled in many memoirs, Robert "Bob" Hilliard, the author's grandfather, is one of Ireland's best-known International Brigadistas. His short life blazed with a rare intensity; his death in Spain left a dark shadow hanging over his family. This book unravels Hilliard's enigmas to bring us an absorbing character and a fresh understanding of the times that shaped him. My grandfather's name was Robert Martin Hilliard and there has always been a Robert Martin Hilliard-shaped gap in our family. As time passed my sisters and I heard more about him. It seemed he had a bewildering series of occupations. At one stage he was a Church of Ireland priest, so when our atheist father joked about marrying a vicar's daughter I clothed my mind's-eye grandfather in a white dog collar, like the local vicar. My mother said he was also a journalist and a boxer. Boxing was not his job, though – when boxing was on TV she would say, proudly, that he had been an amateur who boxed in the Olympic Games. In her opinion, amateur boxing was more sporting than professional, because amateurs wore thicker gloves and won by displaying skill rather than damaging their opponents. Our grandfather was Irish, and our mother told tales of her own childhood in Northern Ireland, where he was sent after being ordained. The ugly part of his story was that he walked out on our grandmother and his four children to go to London; the sad part was that he died in Spain. Eventually I learned the name of the battle where he was shot, Jarama, and the year, 1937. Tim and Deirdre (our mother), Robert Hilliard's eldest children, were shattered by his death. They had always thought he would come back. Long into adulthood, Deirdre was tormented by dreams that she was running to catch up with him in the street, only to find she was following a stranger – or worse, that he looked at her with no sign of love or recognition. Their mother transmitted a sense to her children that their father had dealt the whole family a crushing betrayal. Deirdre was left with irreconcilable contradictions. How could the affectionate, playful father she remembered walk away from her and her brothers and sister? How could he leave them so unprovided for that they had to do moonlight flits to escape unpaid bills, and often went short of food? On the one hand the International Brigades were a heroic undertaking; her father's readiness to fight Francoism was therefore heroic. On the other he had left his own children, and what kind of hero did that? The effects of such an abandonment don't end with one generation. As a teenager I was acutely aware of our mother's unresolved unhappiness. It mingled with the resentments she shared with many women trapped in the role of 1960s housewife. Our house felt full of exploding emotions, making me eager to leave home and for a while putting Robert Hilliard out of my head. The Killarney department store came as a big surprise, standing out in the street, larger than its neighbouring shops, R HILLIARD AND SONS in impressive lettering across the front. Peering through plate glass, I could see no further than the window display of clothing, footwear and steam irons. It was 1975 and I was a young teacher on my Easter holidays, hitchhiking and walking with a friend through Kerry and Cork. We had been trudging through Killarney, looking for the Killorglin road, when I saw the unexpected name. Was our family related to the Hilliards in this shop? I didn't go in. Tired and travel-stained after a day on the road, I felt too scruffy to present myself. We pressed on to the youth hostel, but the shop's image lingered. During another of my 1970s visits to Kerry I wondered aloud to a stranger about the scarcity of people in the sweeping landscape – where was everyone? – and he described the events behind the long-deserted ruins and the haunted feel of empty places where once there had been inhabitants. His words brought back my mother's stories of a terrible Famine, evictions and mass emigration. Fragments of history, some from family members, some from strangers, I began connecting with my missing grandfather. That Killarney shop was central to his boyhood, I learned. His grandmother had walked hundreds of miles during the Famine to replenish its stock. He had swum in the Killarney lakes, fished in them, rowed boats across them, run wild on their margins with his sister Moll, and carried away from his childhood a lifelong yearning for the ecstatic self-forgetfulness that the lakes and the mountains brought. After World War II, little was said or written in Ireland about Irish participation in the International Brigades. As this silence lifted, Robert Hilliard's repute grew. In 1984 singer-songwriter Christy Moore released his album Ride On, featuring the song 'Viva la Quinta Brigada', which commemorates the names of many fallen brigadistas. Here's the second verse: Bob Hilliard was a Church of Ireland pastor From Killarney across the Pyrenees he came, From Derry came a brave young Christian brother Side by side they fought and died in Spain. And then the stirring chorus: 'Viva La Quinta Brigada! 'No Pasaran' the pledge that made them fight. 'Adelante' was the cry around the hillside. Let us all remember them tonight.' Suddenly every Christy Moore fan knew my grandfather's name and had heard of the anti-fascist cause for which he died.
Sunday World
19-05-2025
- General
- Sunday World
Deirdre Reynolds: Shake off the stigma and embrace life as a spinster
Term has been a slur too long, we want it back Hi, my name is Deirdre - and I am a spinster. Now, it's news to me that this is something I was meant to be mortified by. But a 'man on the internet' tells me otherwise, so I figured I'd better mull it over, anyway. Admittedly, when I wrote about how Ireland needs more child-free spaces on this page a couple of weeks ago, I knew I was sticking my head above the parapet - and risked having it sliced clean off. What I didn't know was that being an 'old maid', or even a relatively young one, would be the weapon of choice with which to do it. As a quick recap, while many argued that the adults-only policy deployed by a Tipperary café was 'anti-woman', I posited that it was a welcome respite for not only the childless, but many stressed-out, coffee-loving mams and dads too. Lots, including parents, agreed. But, as an apparent 'spinster', or maybe more egregiously, a 'childless woman', it was also suggested by others that I should 'jump in a hole and drink [my] coffee there'. To be honest, a hole sounds like the perfect place to enjoy my flat white in a bit of peace. At the risk of digging myself an even deeper one, I'm fine with being labelled a spinster too. Granted, for a long time in Ireland and beyond, it was a term used to denigrate women who were regarded as being left on the shelf, or as the Oxford English Dictionary plainly puts it, while acknowledging its more derogatory usages, 'an unmarried woman, typically an older woman beyond the usual age for marriage'. Clearly, it still is by some. Given that the 'usual age' for wedding for the first-time among Irish women has crept up to 35.8 years old, that makes for a hell of a lot of Millenial spinsters, and with first-time grooms averaging at 37.7, quite a few 'bachelors' too, though the equivalent male noun doesn't put the boot in quite as forcefully. The opposite, in fact, with a Westmeath Bachelor Festival still going strong up to last year. So … should we try to get a rival Spinster of the Year competition up and running? Or, at the very least, in the same manner that the 'c' word has been refashioned by feminists, attempt to reclaim the 875 year-old slur from the clutches of sexist trolls? Back in the 60s, Joan Rivers was one of the first stars to try, by shamelessly using it to describe her marital status at the time. And it's certainly no more embarrassing than modern celebrities like Emma Watson declaring themselves 'self-partnered', or going even further like, Kourtney Kardashian, by championing 'autosexuality' (being turned on by yourself), rather than simply say, 'I'm single'. Ahead of 'National Old Maid's Day' on June 4, then, let's shirk the stigma for once and for all. Already, more and more younger women are embracing other stereotypical hallmarks of spinsterhood, from being a 'cat mom' to going grey gracefully, so why not do it with pride? Because, let's be real, it's better to wind up a spinster than married to someone who still thinks it's an insult.
RTÉ News
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- RTÉ News
Síomha's trip to the Otherworld - using folklore to explore grief
In the heart of Donegal, Síomha's ready for their biggest protest yet. No one's building a hotel. Especially over Aunty Deirdre's fairy fort. This will end in agóid not tragóid... Theatremaker Em Ó Ceallaigh introduces their new play Síomha and the Otherworld, a new Immersive work for young audiences, touring venues this June. How do we remember people who have died? How do we accept and keep living with grief? How do we fight for what matters? And what do fairy forts, racing maggots and millipedes, and Sinéad O'Connor have anything to do with this? Síomha and the Otherworld is an immersive, new play for audiences aged 9+ years by Sian Ní Mhuirí and me. Meet 11-year-old Síomha, who - a thiarcais! - is shocked to see us. Síomha's staging a protest to save a beloved fairy fort that holds memories with their late auntie Deirdre. No way is Mr Big Smoke building a hotel on top of it! We wanted to explore the complicated emotions that come with grief. Sian and I are drawn to work with humour and heart that takes young people's curiosity and intelligence seriously. Artists often draw on fairy tales to create work, but Irish fairies are not your bog-standard cutesy fairies. They're mischievous, bold, not to be crossed - qualities that Síomha admires. Síomha is a love song to people who love us fiercely. People who understand solidarity. People who see justice and joy as the best dance partners. Donegal's rich folklore lives in the bones of our story. There are different theories about who fairies are. Maybe the old gods, the Tuatha Dé Dannan, who, having lost their adoration and power, live in the otherworld, passing through fairy forts. Another theory is that fairies are fallen angels. Not good enough to be saved, not evil enough to be banished to hell. This show isn't an attempt to just retell fairy stories. It's a modern story full of magic about a young person navigating a big conflict with a best friend, and their first major loss. The show explores finding magic in the world during hardship, and embracing the magic of being different. Of being a little weirdo. My own nana died this year. She was someone who, like aunties, mentors, friends, loved me uncomplicatedly as a young (and older!) person when I was scared, or felt too weird for this world. Síomha is a love song to people who love us fiercely. People who understand solidarity. People who see justice and joy as the best dance partners. The show is set in the Donegal Gaeltacht and is peppered with Gaeilge Uladh. It has cultural references that Síomha shares fondly with their auntie (shout out to late greats, Sinéad O'Connor and Nell McCafferty). Audience members will sit inside the fairy fort. You meet Síomha, played by the tender and hilarious Aoife Sweeney O'Connor. Our second character is the fort, who speaks through light, sound, and video, brought alive by a talented creative team. Through song, storytelling and the occupation of a fairy fort, audiences are in for a tender, sensory, one-of-a-kind experience. It'll be wild craic altogether, aye.
Irish Times
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Writers Anonymous by William Wall: A literary thriller that is emotionally taut and structurally inventive
Writers Anonymous Author : William Wall ISBN-13 : 9781848408852 Publisher : New Island Guideline Price : €16.95 'The idea came to me in the vacant space between one irrational thought and another. The place where ideas for books come from.' So muses Jim Winter, the protagonist of Writers Anonymous, the latest novel by William Wall. Restless after the lockdowns of 2020, Jim, a well-known author, launches an anonymous online writers' workshop. This sets the stage for a story rich in introspection, meta-literary playfulness, and creeping dread. Five unpublished writers are selected. Cameras stay off, and real names are not allowed. But one, Deirdre, begins submitting chapters that unsettle Jim deeply. Her novel describes the unsolved 1980 murder of Mattie Lantry, a lonely teen from a small Cork town, a case Jim knows all too well. Wall blends literary thriller and character study, crafting a novel that's emotionally taut and structurally inventive. He peppers the book with excerpts from each student's writing, especially Deirdre's, whose crisp, haunting prose feels disturbingly intimate. Gradually, the lines blur between fiction and confession, self and other. How can Deirdre know what she knows? READ MORE The mystery alone could drive a lesser novel, but Writers Anonymous reaches further. Wall uses the workshop set-up to gently satirise literary culture, particularly the proliferation of Zoom-era courses where adverbs are heresy and anonymity is chic. The result is a smart reflection on writing and its place in our disrupted lives. [ Frightfully unfashionable: the century-long decline of adverbs Opens in new window ] Written from Jim's first-person perspective, the novel offers a refreshingly intimate portrayal of the writer's mind, its rhythms, self-doubt and the quiet toll of creativity. These insights never overshadow the plot but enrich it, offering a nuanced glimpse at the cost and compulsion of storytelling. Wall's writing is rarely showy, rather it possesses a clarity that intensifies as the novel progresses. He captures the social and political undercurrents, and the conspiracy-flecked paranoia that swelled during lockdown. With its literary allusions and world-weary wisdom, Writers Anonymous is also an edifying read, full of reflective pleasures. It's often said that good poems are about poetry; the same might be true for novels. Without navel-gazing, Wall folds a quiet meditation on the form itself into the narrative. He also captures the multiplicity of our inner lives with a poet's touch. Winter reflects: 'Read my books and know that I am someone different. I am that darkness that lies beyond the dark of my books.' It's a haunting line, hinting at the gaps between the self we present and the selves we conceal, or perhaps, the selves we become when we write. In this way, Writers Anonymous becomes not just a mystery or a literary satire, but a profound reflection on identity, authorship and the shifting truths we tell ourselves and others.
