kate thompson

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I am feeling horribly guilty.

 I have got to stop having fun.

 I have got to knuckle down to some hard work...
 

There was way too much fun to be had last month, and how could I not feel guilty in the light of what was going on in the world? As Ross O'Carroll-Kelly put it on his Facebook page: 'First a recession (famine), then swine flu (pestilence), now half the country's under water (floods). Is God going to give us a head-up before he sends the fecking locusts?' But when fun is offered to you on a plate, it's awfully hard to say no. And I need cheering up now that my lovely girl is on the other side of the world and the the only way I can communicate with her is via Skype.

Fun last month included far too many lunches. FAR too many. Some in my house (I swear by the Avoca Café Soup cookbook), some in lovely restaurants, and some in other people's house: one memorable lunch party lasted until way after dark (thank you, Kevin and Karen!), another party had a wonderfully attentive wine waiter (thank-you, Q!), while afternoon tea with a laden cake stand and champagne was a topping treat (thank you, Fi!) . . . Even as I type this I’m on the phone booking a table for four in the Winding Stair . . . Stop, stop, stop it, Kate! I shall have to do something radical before Christmas – the Wii Plus beckons, but I’m scared of it. It will be too judgmental. And now that the leaves have all gone from the trees, my neighbour across the road can see directly through my sitting room window as I perform Drum Majorette antics and uncoordinated Kung Fu moves on the balance board. I think all the lunches and good times have been a form of procrastination – as well as the fact that there was just far too much excellent company around. Although I’m dying to get stuck into the book called ‘That Gallagher Girl’, my mind is still fixating on ‘The O’Hara Affair’ – and no wonder! It will be on the shelves (in Ireland) at the beginning of January (UK readers will have to wait until March for the mass market paperback), and I think it looks really beautiful! Click here to read the blurb and the first chapter.

Another beautiful jacket - this is The Quiet Quarter Anthology of Ten Years of Great Irish Writing, and I'm delighted to say that I'm in there in illustrious company. The book is edited by Maire NicGearailt, and published by New Island. It would make a lovely Christmas present, and you can click here to buy.

Hard work last month involved writing some sonnets (they’re to be a feature in the next novel - I have four down and nine more to write), and performing a tiny role in a radio play. The play was written by one of Ireland’s foremost playwrights, Thomas Kilroy, and was to have reunited me with dear friend Ciarán Hinds with whom I last worked on Mr Kilroy’s version of Chekov’s ‘Seagull’ years and years and years ago (he played Konstantin and I played Nina). But - for reasons beyond his control - Monsieur Hinds was unable to participate. He missed a brilliant couple of days – the cast comprised a dozen or so amazing actors (including my husband ☺), some of whom had not met up for years. Any time we had off mic was spent catching up and laughing like drains – I’d forgotten what fun was to be had working in a team since I’ve taken to working solitaire. At one point, Bríd Brennan turned to me and said: ‘My eyes are aching from crying from laughing so much . . .’ The play is called ‘In the Garden of the Asylum’, and it will be transmitted on RTE radio's Sunday Playhouse at 8pm on December 6th.

But after all the fun, there is punishment in store. I will be raising money for the Hope foundation next month by taking part in a swim off Seapoint on Sunday 13th December. If you'd like to pledge money, you can do so by going to my Facebook page - I should have a link set up there before too long.

I hope you all have the best Christmas possible. I know it's a facile thing to say, but thoughts are with those of you who have suffered so unbearably recently. Sometimes I feel sorry for myself, stuck in front of my computer screen with no one to talk to all day, but last month I felt very lucky indeed to be able to work from a home that hadn't been inundated with stinking flood waters. 

With lots of love, and may December be good to you,
Kate

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