Walking alone in the streets of the world, Paul Durcan has taken the listener on a journey. From Enniscorthy to New York, from Irishtown to Iraq, the "news of the day that's in it" is distilled through the poet's eye, at times deeply personal, at times reflective, at times abundant and his ailing mother "a small, spilt sea wooing moon"; a passing ship at Ringsend "like a vast crate floating in the middle of a raindrop"; the hawthorn trees of the midlands "blossoming baking powder white over all the meadows."
This book was a Christmas present from my late mother in law, Helen, in 2003, only just read it and was delighted with the weighting of Paul Durban, I guess Helen listened to these pieces on RTE and really liked them.