Dropping in to see the Ma form Paris and rocking up to the table and the Ma putting out a fried egg, rashers and baked beans from the tin. Then she’d be off to the shops. The house would go quiet again. I always thought the light was different in Dublin than in Paris. As I looked around the kitchen, it seemed to have been stuck in a time that he knew so well but now was edging into a distant memory. The ma did her shopping in Dunnes. I’ve memories of going into town with her and walking on the small Summerhill path with the big old tenement houses before all of them knocked down and replaced with new, more modern ones. She always like shopping at Dunnes, she felt at home there.














