1975
Unleashed, that is how I think of myself. Like I am letting out a breath that I have been holding since I was born. I am almost eighteen, I am in Dublin, I am at university. Mucknamore is now, almost, my past. I have to hold myself back from throwing myself down on the soft grass, from throwing my books and papers in the air, from throwing a song up to the sky.
Underpinning my delight is the knowledge that Rory O’Donovan is here too, walking around this very campus somewhere. Early this morning, I saw him, standing outside Lecture Theatre M, a crowd around him. He looks good: long, straight, black hair looped behind his ears. A long military coat, down to his ankles, complete with epaulettes on the shoulders. Black jeans and black polo-neck jumper underneath. Compared to most of the
