As the crowds toiled and laboured in the orange glare of the bonfires an enormous PA system played a medley of nostalgic tunes about the ‘auld’ times and the countryside; airs and jigs and graces that spoke of a life not like this one, a life more tranquil, a life back then.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Mac.

Boiler-suited bullies roamed the yard, shoving and forcing, using a fist here and a cudgel there if necessary.

‘Work!’ they shouted.

‘Faster!’

‘Harder!’

‘Better!’

A particularly brutish lout barged past Mac to grab an old man by the collar. ‘You helped write this rotten stinking stuff,’ he screamed, ‘now get on with destroying it!’

The man looked terrified. It was Gilly.

Published by Barnaby Taylor

Barnaby Taylor is a multi-talented author and artist whose work spans a range of genres, including fiction, non-fiction, and experimental film. He is best known for his writing guide How to Write Something and the popular VIRO series, both of which showcase his passion for storytelling and his gift for engaging and informative writing. In addition to his writing career, Taylor is also an avid enthusiast of artificial intelligence, 1950s Japanese cinema, gaming, and rare soul music. When he's not writing or making films, Taylor can be found exploring new technologies, immersing himself in his favourite hobbies, and spending time with his loved ones. View all posts by Barnaby Taylor

Bara Cailín 3: 39 ‘airs and jigs and graces’

As the crowds toiled and laboured in the orange glare of the bonfires an enormous PA system played a medley of nostalgic tunes about the ‘auld’ times and the countryside; airs and jigs and graces that spoke of a life not like this one, a life more tranquil, a life back then.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Mac.

Boiler-suited bullies roamed the yard, shoving and forcing, using a fist here and a cudgel there if necessary.

‘Work!’ they shouted.

‘Faster!’

‘Harder!’

‘Better!’

A particularly brutish lout barged past Mac to grab an old man by the collar. ‘You helped write this rotten stinking stuff,’ he screamed, ‘now get on with destroying it!’

The man looked terrified. It was Gilly.

Published by Barnaby Taylor

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Bara Cailín 3: 39 ‘airs and jigs and graces’

As the crowds toiled and laboured in the orange glare of the bonfires an enormous PA system played a medley of nostalgic tunes about the ‘auld’ times and the countryside; airs and jigs and graces that spoke of a life not like this one, a life more tranquil, a life back then.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Mac.

Boiler-suited bullies roamed the yard, shoving and forcing, using a fist here and a cudgel there if necessary.

‘Work!’ they shouted.

‘Faster!’

‘Harder!’

‘Better!’

A particularly brutish lout barged past Mac to grab an old man by the collar. ‘You helped write this rotten stinking stuff,’ he screamed, ‘now get on with destroying it!’

The man looked terrified. It was Gilly.

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Published by Barnaby Taylor

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