The Italian Job: Il Pirata

I recently paid a visit to one of Belfast’s best kept (relatively new) secrets. Il Pirata in Ballyhackamore, situated in the building that once housed KFC, is without a doubt the finest Italian I have had in Belfast.

We’ve come a long way with what we can offer as a city in the past few years and the standard of eateries has not been left behind in these improvements. Belfast now boasts a culture, arts and food scene to rival any European City, but we still hold that grotty charm that I love about this place.

Il Pirata is an authentic Italian restaurant that serves far more than pizza and pasta, I would highly recommend the polenta chips, they were scrumptious. On offer are a range of ‘small plates’ and main courses. The menu has plenty of choice without being too crowded and the portion size was good (though I would suggest ordering a side with the main meal)

I had the salmon and it was delicious, perfectly cooked and the flesh just flaked off and almost melted in my mouth. Everyone else in my party of 7 was also impressed with their dishes of choice. The atmosphere was casual and the wait staff were attentive and could offer good advice about what to order. (it took forever to get the bill though)

I will definitely be back to this restaurant and I am so glad that Belfast is finally coming into its own as a city and 2012 has most certainly been ‘our time, our place’. Get used to the increased numbers of tourists wandering about with cameras because I have a feeling we are only going to be seeing more of them!

#comeonourweeland

The Water Sustains Me

I am so thankful I live on an island. There's something about the water that sustains me, there's something about the river that restores my soul and I love it!

 Today on my way home I took a walk down by the docks. The clouds were streaked pink coming off Cave Hill and I sat looking at Samson and Goliath reflected in the water until they faded into black to mirror the sky.

It's so quiet down there and it's mindblowing to imagine the noise that was there 100 years ago, the absence of rivet on steel is almost eerie. So as I sat and watched the last streaks of light fade from the sky I played this song [below] out of my phone, and at that moment I was so happy I could have just let the river carry me away. I am so blessed to live in this battered little city. I love its grotty charm and its wonderful people, I love its history and the future it has infront of it. Thank you Belfast for being so wonderfully you!

All that I have is a river
The river is always my home

**

The water sustains me without even trying
The water can't drown me, I'm done
With my dying
**

Where the blue of the sea meets the sky
And the big yellow sun [cranes] leads me home

Northern Soul meets Urban Wannabe

I have been having some serious writers block. I was hoping 2 weeks of at Easter would go some way to sorting it, but we’re one week in and i’m not much further on.
I’m really excited about what i’m working on at the moment, but I just can’t seem to get any of it out onto the page.

I’m in the middle of writing a collection of poems on the changing face of my city. I’ve been studying the works of the old school Northern Poets; Longley, Heaney, Kavanagh, Hewitt etc.. and looking at how they viewed the changing landscape of their time. I’m trying to verbalise how I view the city in light of it’s literary and historical past, but also what this city means to me now and the hope I have for it’s future. I believe we are standing on the edge of a very pivotal time in our city’s story and I want to blend that beautiful Northern soul poetry with the modern literary heartbeat that is radiating from Belfast at the minute.

I don’t know if it’s possible, but if I get anything halfway decent i’ll let you know!

Alma Mater

I wanted to blog more than this in 2012. This post is more of a personal documentation than a carefully crafted treatise!

I'm at a pretty transitional point in my life at this moment and it's been a little disrupting. I've just left a wonderful school, where I have met inspirational teachers and taught confident and perceptive pupils. I had the chance to work in a brilliant department amongst a staff who value everyones individual contributions. In short I LOVED THAT SCHOOL.

Now i'm moving on

To the place where everything began for me. My alma mater. The school which shaped me, which nurtured me, which encouraged me. The school where the teachers I had have become my friends, where I found people to champion my dreams and encourage my talents. Where I feel at home.

But I am scared.

I'm scared that i've got expectations (something I try never to have) I'm worried that I will fail to be the person my friends here have championed me to be. That it will be too hard to fit in with a different role, that I'll mess everything up and disappoint those who have believed in me the most.

But I trust in my abilities, in the joy I get from teaching, that everything will work out fine. I trust that there is a God who is for me preparing my path, who knows the number of hairs on my head. A God who loves me more than anything I could ever do or fail to do.

The cry of my heart is to be someone who makes a difference.
It's not ok to me that kids go through their schooling thinking that they are useless. It's not ok to me that in schools children feel lonely, vulnerable and alone. It's not ok to me that school aged human beings think their voices are not heard or don't matter. I want to be a competent enough professional to ensure that I can make a difference.
This is all I ever wanted from life.

World on Mute

It's like someone put a veil around me, a shroud of uncertainty and isolation. The world, usually in technicolour, seems somehow dulled. The mist engulfing the city tonight engulfs me too, pulling me into its unsearchable depths. My heart aches, my eyes feel heavy, like my soul. 
The river courses its gentle stream as I walk beside her, unaware of the raging torrents of emotion contained inside me. One foot in front of the other I carry on walking. I want to walk into the mist, to disappear from everything, to leave my responsibilities behind me. I want to leave the Lagan to her ageless journey. 
I envy her.
She knows where she starts and where she ends, coming to the final few meanders of her path here at the mouth of the ford where her secrets become the lough's; where the lough becomes the sea. Her path laid out before her every step of the way. But me? I wander at her shore on the edge of a knife, veiled and muffled. 
One foot in front of the other is all I can manage tonight.

You have the capacity to be incredible!

I have just watched I have Never Forgotten you: The life and Legacy of Simon Wiesenthal and I have never wept so much at a documentary before. This man was exceptional.


Friday 27th January was Holocaust Memorial Day and I did a few lessons on it with some of my classes in school that week. When I was researching information I came across this man Simon Wiesenthal the 'Nazi Hunter', I recognised the name but I didn't know who he was. I've only just got round to watching the documentary I found on him and I am so glad I did! His story moved me immensely; he encapsulated the grief of an entire generation lost at the hands of the Nazi's. He raised a daughter who would never have anyone to call auntie, uncle, cousin, grandmother, grandfather. He continued remembering and fighting for justice for those he was never able to forget. And he kept going even when people accused him of making the holocaust up, refused to believe the things he went through and spat at him on the street. Because of this unrelenting vision he had it is possible to quote the paragraph below from the aforementioned documentary:

“Without Simon Wiesenthal’s activity, there would not be war crimes trials today. The reason that there is a permanent UN war crimes tribunal in the Hague is directly attributable to the work that Simon Wiesenthal began in 1946. No one had a more stacked deck against them than Simon Wiesenthal who came out of the holocaust with nothing, nobody, was 99lb and barely alive and with that he wouldn’t give up. To me that’s the lesson of Simon Wiesenthal; that one person if they want to and if they try can make a difference. He made a difference to the world”


For me the year 2012 will always be synonymous with the Olympics, but I want it to be much more than that. I want it to be a momentous personal year. I'll never win a gold medal, but I want to do amazing things, see amazing places, spend amazing times with great friends. So i'm keeping an 'Olympic diary' of all the really cool things I'm going to make a conscious effort to do this year. But after watching this documentary I think i'm also going to add 'find out amazing things that people have done' to the 'Olympic year' list.

Human beings are capable of incredible things, in the same way they are capable of unspeakable things. It is up to us to be incredible in order to prevent the unspeakable from happening in our world! You have a voice, and if you want to, if you try, you CAN make a difference!!

If you were here beside me...

I can't explain what Snow Patrol's music does to me. Gary Lightbody is the best lyricist of the decade, hands down! There is just no arguing with me on this point!
To write a blog about how much I love Snow Patrol would never do my feelings justice, so I won't try. I'll just say that last night was a special experience, and as long as Gary is up there, it always will be!

"I miss it all from the Lough to the Lagan
and the lack of it splits me in two"
-New York

I just love the way he writes. His music is laced with Northern Irish idioms, you're listening to an amazing song and them BOOM, there's references to 'The Lagan', 'Ireland in the World Cup' and setting 'Fire to the third bar' The way he describes emotions is so beautiful it sometimes takes my breath away. Seeing Snow Patrol is always a profoundly spiritual experience for me, the lyrics are so special. It's like he sees into my soul and sings at exactly the frequency that makes it hum.

That is all I have to say.