I missed last week's blog post - life got in the way a bit and I didn't get the chance really to sit down with my thoughts. It's only now I've had that opportunity. Mind you, my thoughts at the moment are fairly mundane. So instead of boring you, I've decided to write a short story. I write this as I'm sitting on the train to Tralee, on my way to see a friend in lovely Dingle, or God's Country as it should be rightly called. I'll be staying in a cottage in Dún Chaon overlooking the Blaskett Islands. What a privilege in fairness. I've decided to spend the journey writing some memories I have of the train and the different encounters I've had. Conor O'Brien once wrote a song called Twenty Seven Strangers. I had the same idea for a song once upon a time, and only realised O'Brien had bet me to it. I have a fondness for public transport, although that only developed out of necessity. I spent much of my college life on buses, trams and trains, looking out windows at suburban havens, inner city sociality and the Irish countryside.

I've just pulled out of Charleville, Co. Cork. I know the view would be immense if only the trees would get out of the way. There's two elderly women sitting across from me discussing everything and anything, personal and otherwise. They're a little bit posh. It annoyed me at first but my earwagging has endeared me to them. There's an African lady with a fantastic laugh sitting behind me playing with her child. They both seem happy, outwardly happy. It's making me smile once in a while. There's a family tired of travelling sitting in front of me. A young mother attempting to keep two young children entertained while the father looks on with no input. There's more minding on him than the children. My admiration for that women has grown since we left Heuston Station. 

One of the first times I got the train was when I was about 17, for a day out in Dublin with some friends from home. Our company expanded as the journey progressed. We, four, sat around a table playing Heads Up. You know the game where you put a flashcard on your forehead, with a person, place or thing written on it, and people have to try and explain who, where or what it is? Great way of killing time. Sitting across from us were three men and a woman, all in business attire, their briefcases stored above their heads, clearly tired from a day of meetings and other important businessy things. They joined in. It was gas. We later learned one was the Mayor of Carlow. Before we knew it people in the seats behind us wanted to play. Half the carriage got involved in the end. It passed the time, but it also created a great sense of community. All the people were already there, it just took some innocent teenagers playing a stupid game to unite them. 

On one of my first trips home to Waterford in first year in college, an elderly woman sat in the seat across from me when we got in in Heuston Station. I was reading a book for college - something on early medieval Ireland - and she asked me about it. I told her about my new adventure and explained that this wasn't my preferred area of history and a conversation began that lasted until her stop in Kilkenny. She told me about her treatment. She had been diagnosed with some sort of illness, one I can't recall, and had to go to James' hospital for regular treatment. She told me how her husband had died a few years previously and if anything, travelling to Dublin each week was giving her a social outlet. She bought me a cup of tea when the cart came around and thanked me for my company. I got off the train that day wishing I could have helped her in some way. Then I realised I had. I think of her every time I get on a train. 

Another day, on the train to Waterford from Galway - a gruelling enough journey - a overheard a conversation behind me about a girl going to a gig that her boyfriend was playing in Kilkenny. The more detailed the conversation got, I realised I knew her boyfriend. I turned around and was invited to join their conversation. We spoke about her boyfriend's music and the venue he was playing in. Eventually it came up that Conor O'Brien - Villagers - was headlining the gig. Immediately, the girl sitting across the aisle turned around and said 'sorry to interrupt, but my boyfriend is actually doing sound for that gig.' The music community in Ireland is small, but that was ridiculous. I have a feeling Conor O'Brien would have been proud of that train journey. 

Not too long ago, I was on a train from Dublin to Waterford early in the morning. The train left Dublin at 7.20am. I sat down and pulled out my laptop to work away on one of my final college assignments. I was at a table by myself. There was a young couple across the aisle from me. The train was quiet. Everyone was being respectful of the fact that I'm not very used to that hour of the morning. I appreciated it. The man chose this moment to reveal to his girlfriend that he had been offered a job in England. The conversation that ensued was heartbreaking, but also somewhat fulfilling. Although it was upsetting, hearing the two of them work through the situation, so respectful of each other's wants and desires and the love they had for each other, it gave me a lot of hope that they'd be just fine. It was a dramatic snippet of two people's lives together that I couldn't help but be a part of, despite not having any involvement whatsoever. 

One journey back to Waterford presented me with a demonstration of the gulf in social class in Ireland. And this time I was very much involved. I got on the train and before I knew it, I was surrounded by six women ranging in age from 40 to 60 travelling to Kilkenny to see Rod Steward in Nowlan Park. They were intent on making sure their train journey was as much craic as possible. Rod was on the bluetooth speaker, the cans were being drank in great quantities and a bottle of vodka was produced. They were hilarious. They said I looked like Joe McElderry, a former X Factor winner, and insisted on giving me a can of Coors Light. I didn't refuse it. Sitting opposite me was a man dressed quite well, with a slicked back haircut, his earphones in and very intent on not even making eye contact with these women. When the women left, the man congratulated me on 'putting up with them' for the journey, called them a 'pack of howyas' and proceeded to tell me that he was travelling to Waterford to pick up a van for his father's company. The women had offered him a can as well. They gave him the same treatment as me. He chose to ignore it and then be critical of them for having fun. What a sod. 

This journey has been prolonged by twenty minutes due to a delay outside Killarney. I'm getting tired and can already taste the pint I'll have in Tralee while I'm waiting for the bus to Dingle. The two posh women have left. They got off at the last stop. I'm now sandwiched between two mothers trying to look after their children. I admire them. The best thing I can do for them is leave them alone and not seek out conversation. I have no earphones with me. I'll probably continue to earwag. I might give the expert difficulty level a go on the Sudoku app on my phone. 

Mind yerselves, keep in by the wall and mind the trains. 

All the best, 

T x

I'm still very much in that moment in between. Searching for jobs and a means of income, but starting to see my world take shape a little bit more. I'm starting to plan how I will spend my free time now that I'm entering into a structured phase of life. This week is very much the beginning of that. I'm taking steps to put myself on a healthy path for both my body and my mind. 

I've always struggled with my weight and my body image. As a teenager, I hated taking my shirt off in front of people, at the beach or in a changing room. There was a period of time when I was in school that I used to get changed for PE in the bathrooms rather than the changing room with everyone else. I used to always swim wearing a tshirt. Even now I'm nervous about it still. The one time in my life where I started to feel comfortable in my own skin was during the first lockdown. I went on a serious health buzz. I was eating very healthily and I was running almost every day. I lost a serious amount of weight and I felt class. Then I came back to college, lost the routine and put all the weight (plus probably a bit more) back on again. The difference was having the time and the focus during lockdown to concentrate on it. It became my routine rather than trying to fit it into a routine. 

I'm in the perfect position to get going again now. I need to introduce healthy eating and a fitness regime as a constant in my life. When I commit to a job, whatever hours I may be working, these things will be instilled in me already. It's like a preface to a chapter, the preparation for the story to begin. My sister was a great help to me during that first lockdown when I was trying to lose the weight and get fit. The most important lesson she thought me is that fitness isn't how far you can run or how long you can run for, it's the recovery time after you've ran. I went for my first run in well over six months yesterday and it nearly killed me - I lay on my couch wheezing for about a half hour. When I was able to stand up again, I did a few stretches and washed myself. I'm a bit achey in places today, but not as bad as I thought I'd be. The next one will be easier. 

I went for a swim on Sunday in Seapoint. Sea swimming is the most rewarding experience in the world. I suffered from a phobia of sea swimming for years, which I only tackled last summer. I'm very proud that I got out to the water so early this summer. I want to make a habit of that. It refreshes me. I feel that if I keep running and I keep swimming, not only my fitness but my body confidence will vastly improve this summer. I'm really looking forward to the day I can walk into the sea without flinching, without any hesitation. That's a very achievable goal. 

I've also been getting the ball rolling on some musical endeavours. I've formed a band. We haven't rehearsed yet. They haven't even heard the songs yet. But I can't wait to get into a room with them. That will be special. I'll be joined by Dillon Cotter on keys at the Rossa Murray show on Friday. I'm headed over to his for a rehearsal tonight. I love playing with Dillon. He's a phenomenal musician but also one of the most humble people in the world. The man is ridiculously talented but shows an incredible amount of grace and humility in every aspect of his being, musically and personally. I played a few shows with him in 2019/20 and they were some of the most enjoyable I've played. I can't wait to share a stage with him again. 

Also, I've ordered CDs! They should arrive in time for the gig on Friday. Two tracks - The Hope Song and the Summer Song. They'll be €5 each and you'll get a free sticker with it. The stickers will be €1 each and they will feature my brand new logo! Which I'm going to reveal below. 

All these little projects have kept me sane for the past week in this moment in between. Aoibhe, who is the love of my life, has been extremely patient with me. I feel like I've been hanging out of her, her company being an antidote to the boredom I think I'm experiencing. She's also listened to me speak about all these grand plans day in, day out for the past week. Actually, over the last month, while I've been experiencing a whole array of uncertainties and anxieties, she has been a rock, a constant. She has her own stresses, her own things to be doing, but she's witnessed the tumultuation of the past week and beyond and lent her ear and her words of wisdom. I'm extremely grateful to that girl. She makes me feel like a truer version of myself. Even when we're sitting in silence in each other's company, there's a comfort there that is so rare between people. She is the patient witness to all the chaos that follows me at the moment. While eating healthier and making sure I do enough exercise are two things I really want to introduce to my life, she is the only constant I really need. 

I'll talk to you again next week. For now, keep in by the wall and mind the buses. 

All the best, 

T x

Everything is so much clearer now. Within the past four days I feel like the clouds have parted and the sun has reached out it's hand to me. I'm still slightly scared of taking it, but it's reassuring and that's what I need at the moment. It's also very exciting. I'm more excited about life at the moment than I have been for years. 

I needed something this week to give me a bit of a hug. Between doing exams and applying for jobs and the many divergent pathways that I spoke about last week, it was all becoming a bit much and to be honest, I either needed my bed for a week, or something to say 'Tadhg, you're grand boi, everything's going to work out, stop worrying'. Saturday evening I was working hard on an exam question. I had a ticket to an event, which I actually thought was a gig, that I was unsure if I'd get to. I had a quick dinner and said I'd go. It was Maria Kelly's Postcards in Between launch. 

I walked in the door late, awkwardly disturbing the silence that was respecting Sammy Copley displaying his craft. It was a small room off Capel Street with not even fifty people there. There was words on the walls and a sort of comfort in the room that I had never felt before at a gig. The exhibition featured twelve Irish artists, writing a postcard to themselves at some point in their life when they needed some compassion. It was so warm. Each postcard had a design attached to it by one of two artists. I didn't get much time to look at them yet. I found my seat and listened to Sammy finish his set. The boy's a master songwriter. He writes with an empathy that is not found in many artists. He's also very witty and has a very endearing personality. I think everyone in room wanted to be his friend. 

It was what happened next that really had the effect I needed. A panel discussion hosted by Siobhán Murray, a psychotherapist, discussing self-compassion featuring Maria Kelly, Sammy Copley, Cécilia Noiraud and Tim Chadwick. Hearing other people speaking about their anxieties always makes you realise how normal yours are. Tim, who is the loveliest and most wholesome individual you could meet, spoke about his experience throughout lockdown, which was scarily similar to my own. I've always loved Tim's music, and having spent a bit of time with him one afternoon in Waterford when I was working with Beat 102 103, I got to know how genuine of a man he is. Hearing him speak with such honesty and compassion for himself was so refreshing. 

The moment that stuck with me was Maria Kelly speaking about the project and the reasons for it, having no idea what I was actually walking into that night. I had heard her album, The Sum of the In-between, when it was released last year and I remember thinking how gorgeous it was and how warm it made me feel. But when Maria explained that it was born from the uncertainties of the couple of years after college it clicked with me that, bizarrely enough, what I'm experiencing at the moment is one of the most typical moments of any twenty-something year old's life.

The whole discussion that followed about self-compassion gave me an energy I didn't realise I had. It was like a hug from the progression of time. The four days since have been a whirlwind. I finished my exams today, I've applied for a number of jobs, one of which would be a bit of a dream job, I'm starting to organise music things again, and I have a gig! I'm supporting Rossa Murray & the blowin' winds in Bellobar, Portobello on May 13th. I came across Rossa's music years ago and have been a big fan since so I'm really looking forward to this one! I'll hopefully have some merch to sell on the night too. Go to the shows tab on my website there to get tickets. 

An eighteen minute video was shown then that featured all twelve of the postcards. We heard the voices of Paul Noonan, Saint Sister, James Vincent McMorrow and others share their notes of compassion to a younger self. The artistry in the words was beautiful. They were poems in postcard form. But hearing nuggets of your own anxieties trickle across the screen from other artists, some of whom you have admired since you were a young teenager, was a level of comfort that is so rarely felt. 

I will attach links to all the artists that were featured on the night and I have linked an interview Maria did with Minding Creative Minds about the project. Minding Creative Minds are a fantastic organisation that are there to help artists relieve their anxieties through a number of different services. I have also included their website. 

I felt it only write to write my own postcard. Thanks to Maria and everyone who contributed to that evening for the hug. 

For now, keep in by the wall and mind the buses, 

T x

Dear young Tadhg, 

As you see it now, there are two sides to the river. One you wish you will never have to face again, and the other you consider as some sort of personal Mecca. Neither of those perceptions is correct. You're shutting one side off, refusing to see the beauty of it while you're failing to recognise the other one's flaws. You're also ignoring the river itself but will become more aware of it. All rivers lead somewhere. Once you are brave enough to take that boat, it will bring you to another place, which at first you will never see as home but will grow to love it. That place will help you realise the beauties and the flaws of the place you left behind. But you didn't leave it behind. You will go on to find your place on both sides of the river. People will love you for your contributions and admire you for your talents. You didn't need the boat to realise this, but it helped. There will come a time when once you have begun to realise this, navigating the river becomes more difficult through no fault of your own. The tide is dangerous and you'll have to keep your boat docked. But once the water settles, don't be afraid to navigate the river frequently. Dock it on either side. You'll find balance difficult, but that's okay. People don't care that much. They have enough going on. But they'll still love you. 

Remember, there are more than two sides of every river once you're on the water. Get to know every side for its beauties and imperfections. Spend time in all of them. And don't be afraid to take a leap. 

Love and strength to you, look forward to things, 

Tadhg x

Maria Kelly, The Sum of the In-between - https://mariakellymusic.bandcamp.com/album/the-sum-of-the-in-between

Sammy Copley - https://www.youtube.com/c/sammycopley1

Tim Chadwick - https://www.youtube.com/c/TimChadwickMusic/featured

Minding Creative Minds - https://mindingcreativeminds.ie/

MCM interview with Maria - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Eh-NGRSM2A

This is a new venture. I have no idea why I'm doing it. It was just a thought that sprung to my head and I've sat down to do it without any consideration as to the good, or the bad, that may come of it. God knows what I'll end up saying on this page in the future. It could get me cancelled at some stage. Or it could win me a Pulitzer Prize. Although one of those is more likely than the other. I'll let you decide which. 

I've taken a huge step back from music over the past few months. So much so that I've hardly picked up my guitar. My poor electric hasn't been played in months in fact. My final year of college has been all consuming. I submitted my dissertation a couple of weeks ago and that was a massive weight off my shoulders. I remember having a cast removed from my leg after an operation on my ankle when I was 17 and feeling my leg immediately start to elevate. It was a similar feeling submitting my dissertation, except this time it was my mind and soul that began to rise. Although I still have one essay and one exam left in my college career, that elevation has allowed me to peak back over the wall where music exists and start to look at possibilities on the other side. 

I want to record an album this year. That's my goal for the next eight months. I also want to be gigging more now that I should have the time and energy. I suppose starting this little weekly scrawl is my way of pushing myself back into a space where I can achieve these things. A method of encouraging myself to start taking the steps that I considered college to be preventing me from taking. If you are entertained by it, then great. I suppose it has some other use. As an independent artist though, struggling away all by my lonesome, it is a way of keeping myself relevant. And getting clicks into this website. It costs me €20 a month to run this thing and it's been sitting idle for a long time now. I could have a Sky Movies subscription instead. So I suppose I better start using it. 

I have this very unusual feeling of transition at the moment. College is a safe, secure space to be for four years. Emerging from it with a desire to stay in Dublin has its own costs. I'm immediately on a job hunt. There's no down time to be had. I'm straight into LinkedIn and Indeed like a bulldozer intent on burrowing its way through a job's centre. My conundrum is an old one that everyone experiences at some stage of their lives - time or money? I need both to pursue any sort of a music career. Time to record, play gigs, write. Money to record, get to gigs, support my writing. Added costs of rent, bills and being a social creature don't help the matter. Do I work part time to give myself the time to work on music, living on a breadline and worrying about not being able to pay for recording sessions, equipment, this website? Or do I live the dream in full time employment, hoping that people will be around outside the 9-5 to work on the different projects I have planned, fear burning myself out, and get too comfortable to ever take a leap back into music as a full time project? 

I suppose it very much depends on what I want to do. If a full time job comes up that I know I'll adore, I'll jump at it. My mother has always said that I'm extremely fortunate though, that things land in my lap. She's right, I am pretty lucky sometimes. If I'm successful with my Basic Income for Artists application (which is the greatest scheme ever introduced in this country for creatives and I acclaim the arts minister with thunderous applause for introducing it) I'll be sorted, and I'll be able to do everything I want to do. Realistically though, what are the chances? Cross your fingers for me, I'll have mine crossed for you. 

I suppose the one thing that this first entry does represent is a new beginning. Whatever position I end up in within the next month, I know that music will be my primary focus. That in itself is exciting. Some friends have it totally figured out what they want to do next. I have an idea, realising it is the next challenge. 

I'll talk to you again next week. Keep in by the wall and mind the buses. 

All the best, 

T x