IN THE Dublin of the late 18th century, a peculiar and troubling phenomenon took hold among a segment of the city’s privileged youth. Known as the ‘Pinking Dindies,’ these young men, drawn largely from wealthy or aristocratic backgrounds, became synonymous with disorder, intimidation, and casual violence.

THE days when an oil rush brought Irish Catholics flocking to work in the shale mines and oil refineries of West Lothian (above), are being recalled thanks to the establishment of a Shale Trail, linking Livingston with West Calder.

JUNGLE Days: Supporting Celtic in the 1980s by John Wight does what it says in its title. The book chronicles his support of the Bhoys in the one of the most turbulent decades of the 20th century. Yet the tome delivers far more, giving a superb history of Celtic and its importance to the Irish in Scotland.

IN EARLY June 1937 a squad of 23 young seasonal agricultural workers left Achill Island, County Mayo to work on the annual Scottish potato harvest. There were 13 young women and girls and 10 young men and boys; the average age of the latter being around 16, the youngest, 13 years of age.

WHEN my son, Gabriel Cormac, was accepted to Law at the University of Glasgow, I had never been so proud of him. I paid for his rites of passage sixth year leavers’ party trip to Corfu. But I wanted to give him gifts of value rather than something that had a mere price. So, I decided to give him my two most prized possessions that I have carried with me throughout my adult life.

I WAS in Donegal for a long weekend last month. Back to my ‘spiritual home.’ The place I go to decompress and recharge the aul batteries. While I was there, I was reading a lot of John O’Donohue, in particular a piece he wrote about death, and it resonated with me on a deep level because my time there coincided with the funeral of the ‘First Lady of Celtic music,’ Moya Brennan.

I WAS selected to be part of team Scotland to represent young people on behalf of our jurisdiction at the inaugural UK-Ireland Youth Forum. The forum acts as means to represent the opinions of young people across UK and Irish politics, to share perspectives and ultimately influence the policy.

ON THE night of Saturday March 11, 1923, more than 100 Irishmen and women across Britain were rudely awoken by police, arrested, before being bundled into train carriages and taken to ports across the country. Amid much confusion, these men and women were transported by boat (above) to Ireland and imprisoned. Their crime: anti-Treaty activities committed against the newly established Irish Free State, during the height of the Irish Civil War.

"IF MORE politicians knew poetry, and more poets knew politics… the world would be a little better place in which to live.” These are the words spoken by John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the first Irish Catholic President of the United States, a man most Irish admire and feel we know.

EDWARD Hollywood, born in 1814, was a master silk weaver from Dublin whose artisan skills and political convictions were instrumental in the creation of the Irish tricolour. While Thomas Francis Meagher is often celebrated as the face of the flag, Hollywood was the craftsman who brought the symbol to life using the finest French silk.

PETROGRAD in 1920 was alight with revolutionary excitement. Representatives from around the world gathered to discuss major questions about Nationalism, Imperialism and revolution, and to bear witness to the new Soviet state. Formed to promote international revolution in 1919, the Communist International or Comintern was meeting for its Second Congress, with more than 200 delegates meeting at sessions in Petrograd and Moscow.

MY DAUGHTER, Roisín asked me recently what I thought was a fairly logical question. Why does the date that Easter falls on change each year? And the answer is simple; because it’s a ‘moveable feast’ based on the lunar calendar and not a fixed date like Christmas.

Neither Here Nor There Written by CG Docherty Published by Levenford Publishing Price: £12.99 WHEN studying local history and creating family trees has never been so popular, it is often said ‘you have to know where you came from in order to know where you are going.’ Some questions people ask regularly here in Scotland: “Who do you think you are?” Are you somebody? “Who were your parents?” “Where did they work?” What is really surprising is that so many people haven’t a clue

ANYONE reading this has either seen or heard of the film Reservoir Dogs. The classic mob movie features a gang of criminals stuck in a room waiting for information that never arrives which leads to increasing tension and a grand crescendo of operatic violence. What fewer people know is Quentin Tarantino’s gangster classic is simply Samuel Beckett’s Absurdist Play Waiting for Godot reimagined in a mobster setting.

DONEGAL Airport has evolved and grown to become an essential resource in Ireland’s travel hubs.

BORN in a Dublin cellar in 1776, Francis Higgins would swindle his way from lowly messenger boy all the way up to the top echelons of Dublin society, eventually becoming owner of the newspaper the Freemans Journal.

A FEW months ago on my return from a long walk up the country, feeling damp and tired I soaked in a hot bath then afterwards turned on the TV to catch up with the Saturday football scores—mainly to see how Celtic were faring in one of their rare Saturday games.

WHEN we think of a kilted soldier, we almost definitely think of someone very different from Ian MacKenzie Kennedy. He may have had—at times—a feather in his bunnet and a kilt upon his knee, but MacKenzie Kennedy was no representation of the clichéd Scottish martial spirit. He was, from early 1918, a soldier in the Irish Republican Army.

WITH St Patrick’s Day approaching as I write this, I pondered the question: What does it mean to be Irish? And how do we define ourselves in modern society?

TO LAND in Donegal Airport is to rejoice in a truly spectacular panorama. Descending where the rugged landscape meets the crystal-clear Atlantic Ocean breathes new life into the soul of the golfer, the emigrant returnee, or the business traveller back from a hop over to Glasgow or Dublin.