Ah yes, you know the term.
In proper Wikipedia language, it reads “An argument or other discussion that has continued ‘to [the point of] nausea.” In Irish slang, “We are bloody well tired of talking or hearing about it.”
And that, dear reader, we are. Severely sick and tired of hearing that the Irish government will ratify the UNCRPD by a specified date, only to find out that they very silently forgot to live by that promise. Needless to say, having the gift of the gab in Dáil Éireann is an advantage, yet those we elected to represent our very needs refuse to use that gift when it matters most. Continue reading “UNCRPD, Ireland’s ten-year moral outrage”
Being a perfectionist, of course, it had to be precisely 200 days.
Six months and nineteen days between my first multiple sclerosis symptoms and its very diagnosis.
Little did I know that it would eventually transform my life.
It was September 2004, and I had just dropped off my mother at Dublin Airport for her return to Belgium. On the way home, a strange sensation took hold of the left side of my face, as if it had been injected with thick rubber. Thinking nothing of it, I went back to bed to catch up on lost ZZZs.
I slept for hours.
And hours. Continue reading “200 days”