Latest news with #Gallic
Irish Independent
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Independent
We visited one of Cork's trendiest new restaurants to savour its mouth-watering fare
Dan Guerin has served up a top-notch menu of Irish classics with a Gallic touch at Cush Today at 01:00 In July 2024, the town of Midleton received the news that one of its beloved restaurants would be closing down. Sage was a firm favourite among locals, with owners Kevin and Réidín Aherne describing their decision to move on as an 'emotional rollercoaster'.
Irish Examiner
3 days ago
- Business
- Irish Examiner
Lough on the doorstep of fine fettle Evora
A LOCATION within a waddle of Cork's wildfowl sanctuary The Lough, as well as having a significantly revamped and upgraded SuperValu across the road as the 'corner shop' are some of the additional attractions at this detached southside home called Evora. The lovely Lough. Pic: Larry Cummins Brick-faced, with large dormer windows with lattice finish, there's a surprising 167 sq m, or 1,785 sq ft, within this owner-occupied four-bed home which is fresh to the market via agent Timothy Sullivan and appreciated by several generations of the family who are now selling up. Mr Sullivan guides the very well-kept home — decorated with bit of Gallic flair — within a walk of UCC and of the city centre at €595,000, and while it's got a very attractive open plan layout at ground level with linked rooms (and with one of its four bedrooms downstairs) he says it's adaptable internally to allow for a granny flat as well as main private home. Right now it has a substantial sitting room, with fireplace, with bay window in front and slender french doors to an external courtyard, a lounge with period style cast iron fireplace with tiled inserts and timber surround, linking to a breakfast room with tiled floor which continues to a kitchen with pine units and tile-topped island. An open tread stairs leads to three first floor bedrooms, one of which is en suite and a main bathroom with shower. Neat grounds Externally, Evora has off street parking, well-planted front garden with shrubs and hedging, and screened door access to a courtyard style easy-keep rear outdoor area. Pictured are Ryan's SuperValu, Togher by Evora, student accommodation on Bandon Road and rooftops on houses on the south and northside of Cork city's suburbs. Pic: Larry Cummins Viewings are only just starting and trade-up interest is expected, as well as relocators coming back to Cork to work in nearby hospitals such as the Bon Secours: investor interest might also surface given its got four bedrooms. VERDICT: Great accessible location by The Lough, and a SuperValu to duck into
Extra.ie
4 days ago
- Sport
- Extra.ie
All-Ireland Sunday deserves the Super Bowl treatment
The gospel is spreading. It was revealed earlier this week that today's All-Ireland football final will be the first to be shown live by a French broadcaster. Sportall, a digital sports channel, acquired the rights after covering the two semifinals. We just hope that there aren't lads polishing up on their Leaving Cert French so they can translate any Gallic tweets praising this strange game of Gaelic football as a form of affirmation. Who knows where this might lead? Given how flamboyant and thrilling their national football and rugby teams have been down the years, imagine what might transpire if Gaelic caught on in France. In a country that has produced the likes of Eric Cantona, Serge Blanco, Zinedine Zidane and Antoine Dupont, there's surely a prospective David Clifford or Michael Murphy lurking somewhere. BERLIN, GERMANY – JULY 09: Horacio Elizondo of Argentina the referee issues the red card to Zinedine Zidane of France after the headbutt on Marco Materazzie of Italy (not pictured), Gennaro Gattuso of Italy watches on during the World Cup Final match between France (1) and Italy (1). Italy would win on penalties (5) to (3) at the Olympiastadion on July 09, 2006 in Berlin, Germany. (Photo by Simon Bruty/Anychance/Getty Images) Most of us won't have access to the French broadcast but, for the past couple of years, there has been a genuine choice as to where you can watch the All-Ireland. A combination of 'X' now being a cesspit and the novelty wearing off means that the endless retweets of amazed and astounded English people watching their first hurling match is no longer a thing, and the Beeb's coverage has begun to stand on its own two feet. There was always a confidence in their football coverage, as they had been doing the Ulster Championship for years, and in the likes of Oisín McConville and Murphy, until he was coaxed back into the Donegal fold, they had incisive analysts of the modern game. They have always felt less need to explain Gaelic to any first-time viewers in England or Wales. The Beeb's coverage of last week's hurling final did get off to a rocky start, delving into a bit of cliché. There was traditional music for the intro and drone shots of Ireland's green and rugged landscape, with Limerick's Séamus Flanagan providing the narration of how this is hurling and this is Ireland. David Clifford. Pic: Brendan Moran/Sportsfile 'Fast, raw and beautiful. No contracts, just pride,' the Shannonside forward intoned. 'These aren't just pitches. They are battlegrounds. This is who we are. This is hurling.' All a tad twee, maybe, but no more of a rocky start than RTÉ's coverage which had Joanne Cantwell, Liam Sheedy, Anthony Daly and Dónal Óg Cusack standing beside the Michael Cusack statue just inside the stadium. 'I see him coming to life and coming down off the plinth and using that stick on some of the bluffers who are meant to be promoting hurling but let's park that for the day,' Dónal Óg suggested to a mystified Cantwell and the watching Irish public. Last week was a lesson that, for all the analysis and anticipation ahead of the All-Ireland final, it can transpire in a way nobody can foresee. Using a seventh player in defence is hardly a revolutionary tactic but Liam Cahill's decision to deploy Bryan O'Mara as a sweeper in front of the Tipp full-back line seemed to befuddle the Cork players and management. Even at half-time, there was still the feel from the RTÉ punditry team that you will never win Liam MacCarthy with a sweeper. Little did they – or any of us – know. And that's the thing about this day of days. Everything you know may be wrong. There's nothing like All-Ireland final Sunday. From early on, the sense of occasion around Dorset Street. Drumcondra and the Royal Canal makes you feel that you are part of something special. And that's pronounced even more for football, as the game is more widely played. Every youngster who touches leather as a Gaelic player can dream of being part of this day, in a way that's just not possible with the hurling. I am lucky enough to be seeing my county in a fourth All-Ireland final this afternoon. Not everyone can say that but, with football at least, every county has the capacity to dream. I just feel more should be done to convey just how special the day is. The final itself will be only 70 minutes of action on the pitch, but it is about much more than that. It is about the feverish anticipation, the frenzy over tickets, the absurd pre-match rumours – in the hours before last week's throw-in, the story that there was sickness in the Tipperary camp drifted through the taverns of Drumcondra. But the thing is that the television coverage doesn't really capture any of that. Finnbarr Roarty. Pic: Ray McManus/Sportsfile The broadcast of All-Ireland final day should befit a day and event of such national importance. As a rule, we probably should stop looking towards the States for inspiration in anything, but they do know how to do television correctly. And their annual coverage of Super Bowl Sunday should act as the template for an All-Ireland final. From early morning, different talking heads analyse and dissect what could possibly happen in the game. Much of it doesn't come to pass, but that doesn't matter. It is just mirroring conversations taking place across America that day. In Australia, coverage of the AFL Grand Final runs along similar lines. In this part of the world, television coverage of the FA Cup final used to fall into the same groove. The 1985 FA Cup final was the first one I remember clearly, and I remember lying on my sitting room floor, from before noon, flicking from Saint & Greavsie on UTV to Bob Wilson on the Beeb, the excitement as they showed the buses coming in. The FA Cup final was once an event of national significance, and the morning-to-night television coverage was simply a reflection of that. The way the broadcast has contracted underlines how the significance of English football's showpiece day has dwindled. But, as Gaelic football's landmark day continues to grow in importance, television coverage doesn't really reflect that. Why not begin early in the morning with a review of what people are saying in the day's newspapers – maybe even these pages! Why not a proper review of the season, an in-depth look at the paths Donegal and Kerry have taken to Croke Park. And, yeah, there could even be room for a twee, clichéd piece to camera about how the two western seaboard counties have more similarities than differences – you could even throw in some drone footage of the rugged North Atlantic landscape, if you wanted. A day such as this, and a game as eagerly-anticipated as this one, deserves more than coverage going to air an hour and 15 minutes before throw-in. It needs something more. The best part of this day is the anticipation, and that needs more time to be captured fully. Something to bear in mind, going forward. And, if you are not one of the 82,300 going to Croke Park, come three o'clock, you can take your pick between Peter Canavan and Tomás Ó Sé on RTÉ or Oisín McConville and Philly McMahon on the Beeb. At least, there's a genuine choice of broadcast, as befits such an important day.
LeMonde
4 days ago
- Science
- LeMonde
France's Gergovie plateau continues to reveal its ancient secrets
Wearing white T-shirts stamped "INRAP" (for France's National Institute for Preventive Archaeological Research) and work pants stained with earth, about 30 people bustled around the "craftsmen's quarter" site at Gergovie, near Clermont-Ferrand. Those digging, dusting and hauling away buckets of stones and sediment under the morning sun on July 17 were mostly students from universities across France, from first-year undergraduate to master's level. Every summer since 2022, around 20 of them have joined the approximately 1,000-square-meter site "to train in excavation techniques, alongside the theoretical courses they take at their university," explained Yann Deberge, an archaeologist with INRAP and head of the site. This 70-hectare plateau overlooking the valley once served as the capital of the Arverni people. The task is not easy, as they are not the first to attempt to unearth Gergovie's past. Since 1861, at least four excavation campaigns have taken place, sometimes leaving behind "invasive traces," in the words of Deberge. "That's a handicap we've tried to turn into a strength," he said. Before plunging back into the Gallic era, the archaeologists dedicated two years to studying previous excavations: They mapped them out and conducted archival research to get inside the heads of their predecessors, rediscovering their methods of working and recording results – all while carrying out their own explorations. The exposed patch of earth shown to journalists that day could be read as "a chronological fresco." From west to east, one moves back in time, from the reign of Augustus (27 BCE to 14 CE), the most recent period of human occupation, to the Gallic period (70 BCE to 50 BCE). "What is interesting about this site is that we can observe the transition from the end of the Iron Age to the Roman period," explained Marion Dacko, a research engineer at the Maison des sciences humaines, a humanities research center in nearby Clermont-Ferrand.
Irish Independent
4 days ago
- Politics
- Irish Independent
Julia Molony: Why the Macrons' lawsuit against the far-right activist who calls Brigitte a man may backfire
Still, the cross-border legal clash between the far-right YouTuber Candace Owens and Brigitte and Emmanuel Macron definitely wasn't on my bingo card for 2025. And yet here we are. As a professional internet edge-lord, Owens is no stranger to a little litigation. 'The life of Candace Owens, it works like this,' she said on her podcast last week. 'I wake up, stretch, I have a cup of coffee, and then I am served with a lawsuit.' It must have been a surprise, nonetheless, on Wednesday, to see the lawsuit of the day bore the signature of Monsieur and Madame Le President de la Republique. The Macrons say they are seeking justice against the American commentator and conspiracy theorist. Owens is host of an eight-part documentary series, titled Becoming Brigitte and based on a French book of the same name, in which she claims, among other things, that Brigitte Macron was born male and is guilty of statutory rape of Macron while he was still a student at the school where she taught. These, say the Macrons, are 'verifiably false and devastating lies'. Owens' interest in the couple represents a sustained 'campaign of global humiliation'. She has repeatedly ignored requests to correct the record, they say, and so, in a fit of piqued Gallic pride, they have launched a legal battle. Should they have though? They have requested a jury trial, and even gone so far as to pledge to make an appearance in person in the court in Delaware, where the suit was filed. According to the standards of now-unfashionable concepts such as fairness and truth, they arguably have a case. That said, after the recent slapgate controversy in Vietnam, Brigitte and Emmanuel are not immune to accusations of peddling false narratives themselves. US courts grant broad discretion to individuals to comment on public officials But it is unusual, unprecedented, even — this cross-border case between a sitting head of state and their internet troll. It is folly, was the unspoken subtext behind comments given by legal expert Jane Kirtley. 'I think President Macron is going to have a really difficult time with this libel suit,' said the professor of media ethics and law at the University of Minnesota. 'And the reason for that is really simple. "Under US law, public officials are required to prove actual malice, knowledge of falsity and reckless disregard for the truth. In [Macron's] lengthy complaint, he has certainly alleged that on the part of this podcaster, but I think he's also probably not giving enough deference to the fact that courts in the United States grant broad discretion to individuals to comment on public officials.' It raises the question, do the Macrons understand what they are getting themselves into? Owens called it a 'disaster PR strategy' for the Macrons Even their legal submission, running to 218 pages, itemising in exhaustive detail their complaints and responding, point-by-point to the accusations, betrays a yawning cultural gap that will probably work against them. It exposes, too, the infinitely unshakable French faith in form-filling and paperwork. Owens, meanwhile, seems to be relishing all the attention. Dining out on the new international profile the case has brought her, she called it a 'disaster PR strategy' for the Macrons. For her, though, she said it represented an 'irresistible and delicious' opportunity to face France's 'First Lady Man' in the flesh. 'On behalf of the whole world, I will see you in court,' she declared, with gladiatorial flourish, addressing an online auditorium billions strong. It is tempting to suspect the Macrons simply couldn't resist this opportunity to seize the moral high ground. A battle to defend their reputation and their rights was too tantalising, even if participation in a trial risks tarnishing the dignified, statesmen-like image that centrist European leaders, Macron chief among them, are trying to reinforce as a silent rebuke to the vulgarities of populism. In their case against Owens, the Macrons seem to imagine themselves as standard bearers for European values Not least because it serves as a proxy for a broader, epoch-defining ideological clash between European liberalism and the anti-enlightenment neo-conservatism of Trump's America. Macron himself regularly postures as the poster-boy for the former on the international stage. He draws on a long tradition of French universalism, and a national self-image cherished in France, as the birthplace of modern liberal democracy. The country that authored the Declaration of the Rights of Man helped shape, in no small part, contemporary notions of civic rights and individual liberty in America. How affronting, then, for Macron to discover his personal dignity skewered and mounted on the implacable spike of the First Amendment. Thinking of Macron and his wife rocking up to court in the US, I am reminded of the speech by Francois Hollande at the 67th United Nations General Assembly: 'France wants to set an example, not to teach others a lesson but because it's our history, our message. Setting an example in promoting fundamental freedoms is our battle and a matter of honour for us.' In their case against Owens, the Macrons seem to imagine themselves as standard bearers for European values, hoping to jog memories in Delaware, America's first state, of a shared philosophical history. It's a nice idea, but I fear their mission is doomed.
