Laura Kennedy
- Indexed articles, last 90 days
- 7
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Outlet visibility, for Irish Times
- Top 5K sites
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 8, 2026
Latest articles
Laura Kennedy: If my granny saw me reading a novel, sheâd tell me to do something useful (opens the original)
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My grandmother would come at you with a rolling pin if you crossed her. In her defence, crossing her really didnât take much. She made a very good apple tart, so occasionally sheâd actually have a valid reason to wield the rolling pin. Generally, it was merely the chosen weapon of a generation of Irish women who were pathologically suspicious of other females â particularly girls. Read a novel in her presence and sheâd immediately look visibly pained, trying to get you to do something us
Thereâs been a large generational shift in attitude to the Irish language (opens the original)
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âItheann an madra mo geansaÃ.â The Duolingo owl rewards me with a tiny hit of dopamine for being able to translate a sentence about the dog eating my jumper. Something in my gut warms, like a toddler falling prey to a compliment on their objectively terrible drawing. âOh is that a picture of the dog eating a jumper? Oh, well thatâs a lovely picture. Iâll put that on the fridge.â I am a woman in her 30s and I think: âHas it really come to this?â Like every other member of my gene
This has been a childhood-defining summer, one that dried out the earth under your feet (opens the original)
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Some claim autumn does not officially begin until September 23rd. I only know this because people are doing what they generally do and arguing about it on the internet. During the average summer, that fact feels largely academic as we start shrugging on coats in August and watching the darkness sidle in early with the shame of someone breaking a commitment prematurely: âOh sorry, I got bored waiting, so here I am again.â This summer has been the sort that sticks in memory; itâs been the ki
Laura Kennedy: Despite the deep Irish love of Australia, the feeling isnât mutual (opens the original)
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The nuances of identity dull and blur with every step you take from home. While a suggestion from a stranger that you could be from a town 10 miles west of the one you were born in will prompt scorn or derision in Ireland, the further you travel, the more the subtlety is lost. Go far enough away and nobody recognises the difference between Irish and Scottish, or Irish and American, let alone North and South, or Kerry and Cork. Despite the deep and enduring Irish love of and link to Australia, mo
Reuniting with my husband after a challenging period of separation, we sit in delicate territory (opens the original)
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Itâs one of those London pubs â the ones with tumbling baskets of summery trailing petunias and ivy with a handsome, well-kept exterior that evokes another time; Victorian coachmen, the aroma of polished mahogany and the soft murmur of stabled horses. Today, the scene is rather different. Men in chino shorts are drinking IPAs on the street out the front. These men have preposterously British names and boat shoes even though they are, in more ways than one, landlocked on the street outside th
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