He too set me the riddle



I was going to blog on the new book by my dear friend and colleague Niall Hickey of Maynooth in Ireland.  But I’ve had vivid dreams recently, of people from well in the past, including, my paternal grandad who is asking me to think about him – something I haven’t done for a while.

It’s not October but I keep hearing the refrain ‘October-coloured weather’ in my mind, from the poem Memory of My Father by Patrick Kavanagh.  You can read it here.

November is somehow an elegaic month and the long nights encourage deep dreaming.  What are the riddles?  Do they have answers?  Who knows.