Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words

Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words

Maeve Binchy

Language: English

Pages: 383

ISBN: 0804172765

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Before she was a bestselling novelist, Maeve Binchy started out as a columnist for The Irish Times. Her articles—focused on the famous and the obscure alike—were filled with the warmth, wit, and keen human interest that readers would come to love in her fiction.
        From royal weddings to boring airplane companions, from Samuel Beckett to Margaret Thatcher, from life as a waitress to “senior moments,” Maeve’s Times gives us five decades of Binchy’s insight into a changing world—revealing her characteristic directness, laugh-out-loud humor, and unswerving gaze into the true heart of a matter.

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projects over the last few decades, which could have come up with a cure. 2. ‘It’s just a sign of old age, it will come to us all.’ No, it’s not a sign of old age. Even toddlers can get arthritis, and some old people never get a twinge of it. The very worst phrase you can use is ‘Haven’t you had a good innings?’ 3. Remember that marvellous radio series about disabilities called Does He Take Sugar? The message of that title means you should never ask, in the hearing of someone with arthritis, ‘Do

have got things very confused. He said that he didn’t know but there was probably some truth in what she had said. I abandoned the whole idea of it being in any way accurate for about a year. Then there was a St Patrick’s Day at school when I was in my religious maniac stage and I insisted on coming in and helping the boarders to sing the Mass in case I was needed there more than in the parish church. And a nice nun allowed me to check that all the statues of the national saints were properly

their vests and knickers and it’s called endurance or character building. Charles means so well and tries so much that sometimes it would break your heart. He visits deprived inner cities and is taken on tours of areas where the very lucky have some desperate jobs in sweatshops and the rest have no jobs at all. His face forces itself into a look of concern. He says earnestly to the swarm of reporters and photographers that are like a permanent fog around him that one must do something, that one

hound’s-tooth suit baying at the back of the hall, turning with reptilian cunning to the cowering ministers on either side saying those dreaded words, ‘I think that’s one for you, Home Secretary, or Chancellor,’ addressing any number of men whose nervous systems and political futures she unsettled over the years. I have no nostalgia for those Thatcher days when the sun always shone and we were sure of a good row story every outing. I think the place is far better without her, and for once she

living for a while on the planet Mars, they’re aware that it’s impossible to park. If they couldn’t remember whether you said one or half past, that shows great interest in the meeting in the first place. And as for better late than never, I’m not convinced. Fear of Falling Off the Wagon 23 April 1994 Avery agreeable, social sort of man, he says he won’t come to Ireland for this particular gathering because he couldn’t bear all the flak he will get about not taking a drink. He remembers

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