Ten years ago, Simon Kershaw landed in West Cork fresh from a decade of cooking across America – first in Boston, then San Francisco and New Orleans. Time flies when you’re doing something you love and it wasn’t long before the Dublin native branched out on his own with ’Ceapairí’.

After working for a time at Gubbeen, where he dipped his toes into cheesemaking before moving to the smokehouse, the spark to start up his own food business originated from a classic: the Reuben. “It’s still my favourite sandwich,” says Simon. He started curing his own salt beef, baking his own bread, and chasing that perfect toasted sandwich.

With the purchase of a food truck and Simon baking bread, with Liz on the sweet treats, anyone smart enough to seek them out discovered what ‘proper’ toasted sandwiches tasted like. The Reuben was the star: The key ingredient – rye and wholemeal sourdough – was perfected while Simon was working with Ryan at Pike Deli in Clonakilty. That recipe hasn’t changed and Pike Deli still supplies the sourdough bread.

What really sets this small business apart is the sheer amount of work done in-house. Almost everything is made from scratch, and for the few things that aren’t, Simon buys the best he can afford.

The latest chapter has seen ‘Ceapairí’ settle into its first proper home: the Kitchen Stories space on Staball Hill in Ballydehob. It’s a step up from the food truck days, offering room to experiment and grow. Alongside the move came a new online ordering platform at ceapairi.tenvito.com, built with the help of Suz at Tenvito. The system has been a game-changer with less food waste, better organisation, and the peace of mind for customers travelling from afar that their sandwich is waiting for them – no sold-out disappointments.

With a restaurant now under his belt, Simon is looking ahead. The sandwich menu remains the anchor of the business, but nighttime cooking and expanded offerings are on the horizon. “The sky’s the limit,” he says.

Through it all, the local community has been of great support. Joanne, the owner of Kitchen Stories, has been generous with her time and knowledge and the well-wishers and regulars are part of this success story.

For a cook who loves to feed people, there’s no greater gift than doing it in the town you call home.

Keep an eye on Instagram for more updates.

When Méabh and Ronan, the creators of OTOFU, the West Cork tofu company, first met, they spent their weekends going for long, blustery walks on the beaches of West Cork, followed by hours cooking up delicious meals together.  

Although they are neither vegan nor vegetarian, the pair particularly enjoy Asian cuisine and a plant-rich diet. And they ‘love’ tofu. In fact, it was this love that inspired them to start OTOFU in the first place. They wanted to show people how deliciously versatile tofu can be, how easy it is to cook, and the many, many health benefits that go with it.

Based in Ballylickey, just outside Bantry, OTOFU is now in its fourth year. During this time, Méabh and Ronan have moved house (twice!), and renovated their home with their two young boys in tow. It has been a wild ride so far.

You really don’t need to be a vegetarian to enjoy tofu. It is a highly versatile food and cooking it is as simple as frying it in a pan with a little oil. You can roast it in the oven, pop it in the air-fryer, or even just chop it up straight from the pack and throw it into a curry. You can breadcrumb it, tear it, ‘fillet’ it, mince it, scramble it, cook it in a meat based dish or just marinade it to get the flavours you want. You can even freeze it (be sure to defrost for 24 hours in the fridge before cooking), which changes the texture to be crispier and chewier, as well as allowing it to absorb way more marinade, like a sponge. There are so many different things to be done with tofu it is definitely worth experimenting to find your favourite way to enjoy this super food (see some of Méabh and Ronan’s top recipes below).

In the past, people have called tofu tasteless and boring – it is anything but! It is a blank canvas for the flavours ‘you’ want to add to it. And OTOFU’s handmade tofu makes the perfect canvas. Many vegan and vegetarian protein alternatives are often highly processed with long lists of ingredients. But tofu just had two key ingredients, and making it is similar to making cheese. OTOFU employs the same traditional, basic process that has been used for hundreds of years. 

Ronan makes the tofu himself fresh every week. He has a background in food production and artisanal cheesemaking and is a true craftsman in everything he turns his hand to. Meanwhile, Méabh looks after all of the marketing, administration, orders, and even delivers the tofu herself. You might have seen her zipping around West Cork and Cork City in the company van. This is a family-run, family-owned, local business in the truest sense. And unlike many products which decline in quality over time, OTOFU’s tofu has only gotten better. With some help from modern machinery and a grant from the Cork North and West Local Enterprise Office, the company have been able to triple their output per day, since they began trading, while ensuring the quality stays at the very top.

And it is not only a delicious, versatile food – tofu is really good for you. It is what’s called a ‘complete protein’. To get a bit technical for a second, basically our bodies need different combinations of amino acids to make the proteins that we need to live a healthy life. However, we can only get nine of these amino acids through food, as the body can’t make them itself. Tofu contains all nine of these essential amino acids, making it a ‘complete protein’, which is similar to eating meat, fish, dairy products and eggs. Many other sources of plant-based proteins are ‘incomplete’ and need to be combined with other foods. The goodness from these foods is then harder to absorb into the body, which means you have to eat more of them – and also absorb more calories and fat – to get the same effect. This isn’t the case with tofu. It really is a super food.

Also OTOFU only uses organic, European grown, non-GMO soybeans, so there are no links to deforestation and they are certified in Ireland with the Organic Trust. The company is also the only Irish tofu you’ll find in your health shops or on the supermarket shelves, with all the other brands being imported.

Have you heard enough? Curious to try it for yourself? Well, fulfill that curious craving by cooking OTOFU, and in doing so support a lighter way to live, locally.

Some of Méabh and Ronan’s favourite ways to eat tofu include:  

Oven roasted Korean chilli tofu, served with Asian slaw and home cooked oven chips, with a side of kimchi and spicy pink sauce (mix mayo, ketchup and hot sauce).

Air-fried Miso sesame tofu, tossed in corn-starch and drizzled with a little veg oil before air-frying for 20 mins at 200 degrees Celsius, shaking a few times while cooking, served with tamari noodles, sesame seeds and broccolini (a favourite for the kids).

Miso and Mushroom Stew, using homemade chicken broth or veg stock, with a miso paste, chunks of plain tofu, mushrooms, courgettes onions and red chillies, served with spring onions, toasted sesame oil and bowls of steaming rice.

Breadcrumbed fillets of tofu – to create the fillets, slice a block of plain OTOFU lengthways in two and then in half again crossways, marinade in soy sauce or tamari for 10-15 mins. Dip lightly in flour or corn starch, roll in seasoned breadcrumbs (or even better home-made herby stuffing) and shallow fry in a generous amount of veg oil on all sides until golden and crispy. Serve with mashed potato, roasted veg and herby, red wine onion gravy if desired.

For full information on all recipes please follow OTOFU.ie on Instagram.

Annmarie Menzies and Ryan Hoy, originally from East Cork and Fermanagh, share a passion for food. After years of working in a variety of food businesses both in Ireland and abroad,  the couple, along with their young daughter, relocated to West Cork seven years ago seeking a life in nature. Running their own food business remained “an itch they couldn’t ignore” and, in 2023, Annmarie and Ryan opened Pike Deli in Clonakilty together.

Annmarie, who initially trained in fine art, is a painter inspired by the surrounding countryside and coastline. Alongside her creative pursuits, she has spent many years working in the food industry. Ryan, meanwhile, has dedicated over two decades to working in kitchens, where he developed a particular fascination with bread-making, which would later become central to their shared venture.

Fully aware of the challenges facing small independent businesses, they approached their business venture with both realism and determination. Their aim was not only to sustain a business but to create an inspiring work environment, built around a close-knit team and a shared love of good food.

From the outset, ingredients have been centre-stage at Pike Deli. Living in West Cork provides access to an abundance of small-scale, local suppliers: Vegetables from John in Timoleague, Mark in Bealad, Lea in Ballydehob and Jason in Ardfield; milk from Paddy in Kilbrittain; chocolates from Niamh in Clonakilty; fresh eggs from Declan; flowers from Renée in Ballydehob; oils, cheeses and meats from Gik; butchery from the Allshires; and pantry items from Jenny and Toby.

Flour is the cornerstone of their business. Recognising its importance, both in quality and cost, they chose to work with Wildfarmed in the UK, a company leading the way in regenerative wheat production. Their methods – growing wheat in diverse, polycropped systems and focusing on soil health – aligned with Annmarie and Ryan’s values. While they hope to eventually source grain locally, they acknowledge that Ireland’s grain culture is still developing, though promising progress is being made with heritage and alternative grains. “This is an exciting time for Irish flour. Keep your eyes peeled for feature loaves on the shelves in 2026,” says Ryan.

Since opening, they have witnessed a significant rise in demand for authentic sourdough bread. “Real sourdough, not to be confused with the surreptitiously marketed supermarket ‘sourdough’ or ‘sourfaux’ as it’s known in baking circles, is made using flour, water and salt,” explains Ryan. “Nothing else. No magic chemicals to suspend its decay, no water from the fountain of youth, just simple grains and healthy bacteria doing the work so your gut doesn’t have to.”

Looking ahead, the couple will continue to focus on baking and selling high-quality bread, source the most nutritious and flavourful grains available, and educate customers about the value of real sourdough. They believe that once people embrace it as a staple, there is little need to return to conventional sliced bread.

Reflecting on their journey so far, the highlights extend beyond the products themselves. The sense of community – both within their team and among their customers – has been a highlight. “Our chefs creating a magical sweet pastry in high summer, using in season fruit from a few kilometres away, seeing the pride in their faces as it lands on the counter. The sheer, childlike joy on a customer’s face, as they try to navigate its journey down their gullet. It’s the exact reason we all keep going!”

Partners in life and business, The Fish Basket’s owners, Peter and Elaine Shanahan, are celebrating eight successful years at this popular coastal location. What started out as a humble food truck serving fish and chips at the side of the road in Rosscarbery is now a thriving all-year-round business with summer opening hours – 9am-6pm seven days a week – kicking off at the end of June.

While Peter and Elaine are hands-on in the business, they credit their team with the smooth running of this operation. “We’ve a great team who have been with us a long time,” says Peter. The couple run a tight ship and when Peter’s not prepping fish or chipping potatoes, he is managing front-of-house, while chef and baker Elaine keeps the kitchen running smoothly and is responsible for all the delicious home-baked goods on display. Their three children also help out.

Serving breakfast, lunch and West Cork Coffee, The Fish Basket offers a small but consistent great value menu using quality, seasonal and local ingredients wherever possible: The fish comes from Glenmar in UnionHall and the organic salad leaves are grown in Bantry by Radical Roots.

While fish and chips is a firm favourite, the scampi and fish tacos also rank very favourably with customers.

Inside you’ll find a warm inviting space with a quirky collection of memorabilia and vintage furniture, all with a story to tell. Signs like ‘Swimsuits are optional beyond this point’ induce the occasional double take on the way to the toilet and you might just find yourself eating fish and chips on a tailor’s table salvaged from Savile Row. The large mirror on the wall has travelled all the way from a train station in Russia while the old phone once belonged to Limerick Prison. “There’s a story to the story in this place,” says Peter laughing.

Out front the covered seating area offers the best view of the ocean and dogs (and their owners) are welcome to enjoy the space.

While Peter and Elaine aren’t afraid to dream big, with the current economic climate bringing a myriad of challenges, they don’t want to rock the boat for now. “We’re happy just to keep our standard high and customers happy,” says Peter. Looking to the future, he says their hope would be to open seven days a week all year round.

The Fish Basket is currently open Thursday-Monday, 9am-5pm. Summer hours kick in at the end of June. Keep an eye on their Socials – updated regularly by Liz of Coffee House Creative – for more details.

Check out the menu at www.thefishbasket.ie.

What does organic beef farming and homeopathy have in common: Claire Hurley, the force of nature who returned to her West Cork roots in 2009 to take over the 55-acre family farm, despite its uphill challenges. Claire farms an upland hilly farm in the townland of Gortnaclohy (field of the stones) near Skibbereen. “That should tell you everything,” she tells Mary O’Brien, laughing. Determined to bypass the Industrial Revolution altogether, by pairing the hardy, ancient genetics of Belted Galloway cattle with holistic animal health principles and organic standards, Claire has built a ‘birth-to-burger’ enterprise that prioritises animal welfare and soil health above all else.

Before becoming a farmer, Claire studied and worked in horticulture before going on to study and qualify as a homeopath.

She has fond memories of a childhood with her grandfather, when they “tilled small fields of fodder beet, potato’s and mangles with a single draft horse”. Mainstream methods of farming felt unsuited to her, as she had “neither the capital or motivation to intensively reclaim or fertilise such a rough landscape or to erect a large slatted shed that would never seen a return of my investment”.

Initially Claire bought four heifers from County Clare, “raising more than a few eyebrows as the breed was a rare and peculiar sight at the time.” In 2011 she acquired a bull, and in 2013 she slaughtered her first animal and sold weanlings. The frozen meat proved a difficult sell at the time. In 2015 she completed a diploma in Speciality Food production at UCC to better familiarise herself with food legislation, labelling, safety and training. Through this course she many gained friends but also confidence in what she was producing – a quality and ethical product.

In 2017 her friend Andy was selling his small food trailer and, as she puts it, “the rest as they say is history”.

Her hot food stall is now a regular sight at the Skibbereen Farmers’ Market every Saturday, and from Easter Sunday and every Sunday until the end of September at Schull Country Market. The main attraction is the Belted Galloway organic Beef Burger on a choice of bread roll – sourdough, ancient grain or brioche – with cheddar or Gubbeen cheese, and homegrown organic onions, tomatoes, gerkins and salad. They also serve a breakfast with the same choice of bread, an organic egg, Baltimore Pig (nitrite free) bacon and homegrown organic onions, salad and tomatoes.  Claire says it’s “a great sense of satisfaction when you serve the beef burger, salad, tomatoes, onions and lettuce that you have grown and cooked yourself!” A selection of frozen meat is always available at the stall.

Claire began her conversion to organic farming in 2010, “sure of the fact that I would continue to farm the land in the way it had always been done”. Having sold the remaining animals, she researched what sort of animal would best fit the habitat, and “landed on the Belted Galloway”, a breed that thrives on a grass-based diet and natural grazing. “They have a longer gastro-intestinal tract, which gives them the pot-bellied appearance, better to extract nutrients from rough grazing and convert into a nutrient dense meat. The breed has the rare ability to marble first and then put on backfat, they do not develop much fat under their hides; instead have a double coat of hair which provides excellent protection in cold, wet and windy weather, perfect for out wintering. They are naturally polled so no requirement for dehorning.” Excess grass in summertime is baled as haylage and supplementary fed so the herd can maintain a natural life as possible. “They are easy calving and excellent mothers so need minimal intervention.”

Claire believes that it has never been more important than now to move away from large-scale, long chain food production to more local agriculture. “Where food production systems rely upon a network of small, usually sustainably-run, family farms, which takes into consideration; the soil type and climate lending to the type of crop or animal to be grown there,” she explains. In her opinion, “Organic farming has not got the dependency on artificial fertilisers, vaccines, antibiotics, vaccines or petrochemicals.”

Homeopathy –  a system of medicine that uses highly diluted substances to trigger the body’s natural healing – plays a significant role in her farming practice. “A key principle would be the observation of signs and symptoms indicating the nature of the imbalance, be that plant or animal or human,” shares Claire, who has used homeopathy in a variety of cases such as calf scour, retained cleaning and a horse with an eye injury. In 2019 she did some training with Homeopathy at Wellie Level to teach the responsible use of homeopathy on the farm, though “Covid brought this to a halt”.

Farming has not been without its challenges. Beginning in September 2024, her herd succumbed to TB. “I ended up losing just under half my herd which included my in-calf cows and heifers, along with the genetics built up over the years.” In 2025, with much reduced stock, she wasn’t sure she would continue, but in November she purchased six organic Belted Galloways from Brennus on Cape Clear. “As the seasons have rolled around new calves have arrived from the remaining herd and life on the farm has returned to normal.”

Looking back, Claire reflects that “things have progressed so far, I never set out to be producing and cooking all my own produce at the Farmers’ markets but I suppose each step borrowed another and as you try to hone and perfect each stage you realise you’re halfway through something else!”

Her philosophy on animal welfare is clear: “An animal that is reared on a natural diet, with its mother, in its family grouping – free of pain and unnecessary intervention – gives it the best chance to be as healthy as possible and without vaccines and antibiotics; and when the time comes – to be transported and handled and slaughtered humanely. I think the consumer appreciates the fact that the animal, which is consumed, is well-looked-after from birth to death, lives a relatively free and good life. As humans, if we are choosing to eat meat, that is the least we can do for the animal who gives his or her life. That every step in that journey is carried out in the best interest of that animal.”

Each stage of the process has been a huge learning curve, from the animal rearing to handling and cooking the end product. The slaughtering process, meat hanging and cutting is carried out by MJ O’Neills in Clonakilty, “whose expertise is vital and without whose help none of it would be possible”.

Farmers’ markets provide more than just income. “Farmers markets are a huge social hub and have a huge sense of community so I do look forward to starting back after a long winter just feeding and talking to cows!” She still keeps horses and enjoys regular lessons, having purchased a young Irish Draught mare which she’s breaking in at the moment. “Of course the horses give the benefit of a mixed grazing system which is very important in organic farming as it interrupts the parasite life cycle. As if I need an excuse!”

Recently Claire has joined the pop up shop at Levis’ in Ballydehob to sell a selection of frozen organic meat. It is a one stop shop for tasty local ingredients in an iconic setting from 9:30am to 12:30pm each Wednesday.

If you’ve walked the Old Head of Kinsale loop this past year, you will have passed by the McCarthy family farm and Old Head Milk shop. If you’re a daily milk drinker then undoubtedly you will also by now be a regular customer. The Atlantic ocean offers a spectacular backdrop to the cows contentedly chewing the cud on the green pastures a stone’s throw from the shop – you won’t get much closer to the ‘from farm to fork’ (or in this case ‘from farm to bottle’) experience than this. Happy cows lead to happy customers and the rich creaminess of the pasteurised, non-homogenised milk from the McCarthy herd and the consistent footfall since the coastal farm shop opened last July is testament to this writes Mary O’Brien.

The 39-acre dairy farm on the Old Head has been in the family for generations – inherited from the Dempsey’s – and today is run by Gerard McCarthy and his son Stephen. Originally operating as a dry stock and tillage farm, Gerard and his wife Anne transitioned into dairy in the mid-1990s when new entrant schemes made it viable, starting modestly with just 14 cows. “Times were very different back then,” notes Gerard, reflecting on a time before milk quotas were abolished in 2015. That regulatory change allowed the herd to expand significantly and today the McCarthy’s milk around eighty cows.

For years, the natural rhythm of a busy dairy farm meant early mornings and long days, with both Gerard and Stephen also working off farm – Gerard as a general builder and Stephen as a carpenter.

“We were burning the candle at both ends,” says Stephen, who was eager to spend more time with his young family.  The solution came in the form of a farm shop, an idea sparked by similar successful ventures in the UK and Northern Ireland.

After researching equipment and visiting other farm milk shops, the family took the plunge in 2021 once approval was granted from the Department of Agriculture. Stephen and Gerard designed the layout of the shop and started building, making a sizeable investment into vending machines and a top-of-the-range pasteurisation system. The result is a sleek, user-friendly operation that bridges traditional farming and modern convenience.

With Stephen’s wife, Louise, the creative force behind the initiative, the farm shop, which opened at the end of July last year, has transformed their operation.

Behind the scenes, raw milk travels via pipeline from the milking parlour’s bulk tank across the yard to a dedicated pasteurisation room – an immaculate space with resin floors and stainless steel fixtures. There, the milk is heated to 76-78 degrees Celsius, cooled through regeneration, and chilled to 4-5 degrees before storage. Every batch undergoes rigorous testing: antibiotic checks pre-pasteurisation and phosphatase tests post-pasteurisation to ensure harmful bacteria are eliminated. “It’s spotless,” says Stephen of the room, where data loggers track temperatures for Department of Agriculture compliance.

Front of house, customers find a self-service experience designed with sustainability at its core. Glass bottles – €3.50 for a litre, €2.50 for a half-litre – are purchased once and returned for refills, eliminating single-use plastic. The milk itself, pasteurised but non-homogenised – €2 for a litre and €1 for a half-litre – retains its natural cream line. “If you leave it settling for a couple of hours, you’ll see a layer of cream sitting on top,” explains Stephen. “Give it a shake and you’ve got that fuller consistency.” The difference from standard shop-bought milk is immediately apparent – parents frequently report that children who refuse milk at home will happily drink the McCarthys’ creamy offering, often enhanced with flavourings available via an honesty box.

The shop also serves freshly ground coffee and hot chocolate – milky and delicious due to the creamy milk – and has outdoor seating, which is particularly popular with beach-goers and walkers exploring the Old Head loop. “We get a lot of walkers,” says Stephen, noting that even on quiet winter mornings, half a dozen cars might fill the car park on a nice day. The family atmosphere extends to the business itself: daughters Amelia (6) and Shóna (4) have their own jobs, emptying bins and stacking bottles, while Louise manages the decor and daily cleaning.

The operation remains deliberately local. Unlike supplying the co-operative, which they still do with the bulk of their milk, the shop requires customers to come to the source. “We kind of want to stay around here,” says Stephen, explaining that delivery would add unsustainable complexity.

Instead, they focus on the experience: fresh milk drawn from cows grazing with ocean views, served in a spotless facility where the connection between land, animal, and product is tangible.

As the McCarthys look ahead, possibilities include school tours and expanded community engagement, though for now, the business remains focused on quality and sustainability. With the cows just metres from the vending machines, Old Head Milk offers a genuine taste of place, bottled fresh by the family who raised it.

John Coughlan reviews ‘The Greatest Show on Earth: The Inside Story of the Legendary 1970 World Cup’ by Andrew Downie.

The cover of ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ by Andrew Downie shows Pelé with a raised fist, held in the arms of his teammate Jairzinho. It is one of the most iconic images in football, taken after Pelé scored the first of Brazil’s four goals against Italy in the final of the 1970 World Cup. 

That World Cup, hosted by Mexico, was the first to be televised in colour. It was also the first to feature red and yellow cards and to permit up to two substitutions which previously were only permitted in the case of injury. 

The Brazil team that won the final used none, with the same eleven players starting and finishing the 90 minutes.  

The 1970s with Pelé, Cruyff, and Beckenbauer, to name a few of the luminaries of the time, may well have been the heyday of football. I was not around for that World Cup in 1970 (I was born in the 80s), but it seems that for many who were, that competition was the very apogee of the sport. 

Andrew Downie is one such person. 

His book is an unusual one in many ways. It describes every single game in the 1970 World Cup. It was a tournament of memorable matches and moments, but some games – take for example the nil all between hosts Mexico and the USSR in the first game of the tournament – don’t necessarily warrant much description at all. 

The author adds descriptions here and there, helping the reader understand the context of each game. But for the most part, the action is described by the participants – players, coaches, hangers on. The accounts can’t have been given directly to the author, rather it seems he extracted them from other accounts – books, magazines, or whatever. 

The book is a real challenge to something I have come to realise when reading books about football – the football itself is rarely the most interesting part. But this book is all about the football, with little of the off-field colour that usually brings football books to life. 

But it does make for interesting reading, especially when the accounts of players from opposing teams contrast and contradict each other. In Brazil’s intense and dirty encounter with Uruguay in the semi-final, Pelé not only got away with an elbow on Uruguayan defender Dagoberto Fontes, he got a freekick himself for doing it. 

Downie quotes Fontes as saying Pelé caught him in the eye with a deliberate and very violent act. For his part, Pelé says he did it in self-defence, a kind of Minority Report situation, anticipating that he was about to be fouled, he lashed out, landing an elbow on Fontes for intending to foul The King. It seems the ref agreed with Pelé.

If you were to read this book in isolation, it might be a little on the dry side, but with Youtube allowing you to watch the matches being described by the participants, their accounts really do come alive. 

The television producers behind the broadcast of that World Cup seemed to have been so excited by the arrival of colour that they made the surprising choice of really – and I mean really – enhancing the colour. This is not the colour of the ordinary world, there is some pre-Instagram filter that really makes it pop. 

Brazil look beautiful in their luminous canary yellow. The pitches are greener than any grass I have ever walked on. Even England look swish in their all-white kit, a la Real Madrid. 

I found this book interesting because it gave me the opportunity to look at matches and moves, I wouldn’t have otherwise. I had seen Carlos Alberto’s goal in the final many times, but I hadn’t seen Tostao’s assist for Clodoaldo goal in the semis. It’s magic. I had seen Gordon Banks famous save from Pelé, but I hadn’t seen Felix, the Brazilian keeper, pull off an almost equally impressive save from a Franny Lee header in the same game. 

If you are interested in a deep dive into the most lauded of all the World Cups, the book is worthwhile, just make sure you have your phone to hand so you can watch the action in all its technicolour glory. 

John Coughlan co-hosts the Dynamo Football Bookclub, available wherever you get your pods.

I thought it might be helpful to reflect on my experience of working with these new groups and how we can apply our practice to daily life in everyday ways, by ‘catching’ ourselves in the moments that make up our lives. Over eight wonderful weekly sessions together we practiced mindfulness meditation and explored our thoughts, feelings, emotions and sensory experiences. We reflected honestly and shared our experiences openly. We felt our feelings, laughed, cried and discovered our common humanity, realising that we were all much more similar than different. We practiced some mindful eating and mindful movement. We learned that our minds are busy, but by practicing meditation, they will gradually begin to settle.  

Alongside our growing awareness of ourselves and others, we practiced gratitude, self-compassion and loving kindness for ourselves and all living beings. We discovered that, even though taking our time and moving slowly, we still covered a lot of ground. By examining our habits in terms of which were nourishing or depleting us, we all committed to paying more attention to how we were spending our time. I was struck, and very often moved, by everyday examples that people shared of what they had been noticing between one week and the next. Often, on the face of it, little things, but I see them as ‘little big things’, or even huge things, because, once brought into awareness, they invite potential change, growth, softening.

Some of the benefits that participants shared were so rich and impactful. Examples include, stopping to have breakfast quietly, sitting eating meals slowly and tasting the food, driving slower, improved sleep, enjoying time on holidays better, noticing that we have a choice if we ‘catch’ ourselves in the moment. This ‘catching the moment’ can work in two ways, catching ourselves about to react to a situation, in our usual, habitual way or catching a special moment in our lives and really savouring that moment, as if ‘banking’ it, making a deposit in our long-term memory for our future.  

One example of a habit noticed that perhaps we can all identify with, was of feeling annoyance, even intolerance towards, slow drivers or slow-moving vehicles. Habitually, our response might be to get too close to the offending vehicle, to feel a build-up of impatience, frustration, anger as we wait to overtake. But bringing mindfulness to the situation and noticing or catching the moment of annoyance as it arises can bring an awareness of choice. Hang on, we have a choice here. We can either get highly stressed which takes a toll on our wellbeing or we can simply take our time and wait behind the lorry or tractor until we can find a safe place to pass, then breathe, feel our hands on the wheel and overtake without hardly any stress at all.

Conversely, a striking example of a participant catching themselves in a ‘good’ moment, was someone who was about to go sea swimming off a rock but was finding it impossible to get in.  Because of the tide, she would have to wait or go to a different beach. Instead of rushing off to another spot, she had the realisation in her own mind that, hang on, “This is a moment in my life”.  So, with this awareness, she chose to stay on that rock until the tide changed and had her swim.

Reassured, affirmed and encouraged by this generous group sharing, I was repeatedly reminded that mindfulness meditation really matters, it has meaning and long-lasting impact on people’s everyday lives. Mindfulness meditation can be this grounding, steadying, joyful, lifeforce, providing us with skills we can all learn to help us on our life’s journey.  Skills that, once the foundation has been laid, require consistent practice to grow and strengthen, both formally, through meditation, and informally, through how we live our everyday lives. It is pure privilege to be a conduit of these practical yet life-changing skills and practices, and something that I will be forever grateful for. The simple, yet profound, quote from writer Annie Dillard seems fitting here. “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

Mindfulness in April

Drop-in mindfulness hour at CECAS, Myross Wood, Leap on Tuesday mornings 10-11am, April 14, and 2h. €12.  Beginners, returners and newcomers are always welcome.

A free three-week compassion-based mindfulness programme for family carers will run at Mossie’s in Adrigole, Beara beginning Thursday April 23, 12-3pm.

For more information: phone: 087 2700572 or email: susanoreganmindfulness@gmail.com 
www.mindhaven.ie

Suffering is part of the human condition. We cannot know joy without sorrow. To be self-compassionate, according to Neff, is to move from over-identifying with our suffering to being mindful of it. What does this mean in practice? It means that we recognise our unique suffering and we notice it rather than falling fully into it and identifying with it as the only thing we are experiencing. She writes that the next step towards self-compassion is to move from the experience of isolation in our suffering to common humanity. This is to recognise that every human on this planet is just that, a human. That we all have humanity in common. When we can recognise this fact, then we can also know that every human suffers. This can open a new aspect of suffering that can alleviate the sense of isolation we can feel. It is easy to think “I’m all alone in this suffering” yet by recognising common humanity we can move out of that isolation.

The last step according to Neff is to move from self-hate or self-criticism to self-kindness. In practice, this is very much about being kind to one’s Self. This does not mean that we become egotistical or display narcissistic traits. If you think of the person you are closest to, that might be a friend, family member or partner, I can hazard a guess that you would go to the moon and back and move mountains for that person if they shared their suffering with you. You would do everything in your power to alleviate their suffering. Self-kindness is about turning that move to alleviate a person’s suffering on oneself. To become one’s own best friend instead of one’s own worst enemy. What is important here is not simply the presence of kindness but the stance of openness to one’s experience. This is not about correcting or fixing something. It is about allowing an experience to be held without immediate judgment. In practice, this often runs counter to how many have learned to relate to themselves, particularly those who carry histories of shame or trauma. Intentionally creating self-compassion doesn’t stop suffering, rather it means you can have the skill of not making your own suffering worse.

Christopher Germer, an American clinical psychologist who has co-authored books with Neff, writes how the apparent simplicity of self-compassion can obscure its difficulty. In my work, I often notice that for many clients, especially those who are actively suicidal or deeply self-critical, offering kindness inwardly can feel unfamiliar or even unsafe. In this sense, self-compassion is not a skill to be learned. Rather, it is often through the experience of being met with compassion by another, in this case a therapist, that a person can take what is offered and turn it inwards. This is where the work of Paul Gilbert, a British clinical psychologist and founder of Compassion Focused Therapy, becomes particularly relevant. Gilbert situates compassion within an evolutionary framework, describing how human beings have developed multiple affect regulation systems.

He suggests that “compassion is a sensitivity to suffering in self and others with a commitment to try to alleviate and prevent it”. This definition places emphasis on sensitivity rather than positivity and acknowledges that turning toward suffering requires capacity. Often that capacity is not easily accessible to everyone. For individuals who have spent much of their lives in threat-based states, the idea of responding to themselves with care can activate fear rather than relief as they would have experienced their needs and wants as leading to danger once upon a time. Gilbert’s work invites a more nuanced understanding of the challenges to practicing self-compassion and explains why it can be protective to not practice it if shame, trauma, suicidality and/or abuse are part of one’s experience.

The mindfulness component of self-compassion draws heavily on the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn, who introduced mindfulness into Western clinical contexts through Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction. He describes mindfulness as “paying attention in a particular way, on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally”. Within self-compassion, this quality of attention allows one to notice suffering without becoming overwhelmed by it or pushing it away. It creates a kind of internal space, or capacity, where experience can be witnessed. Without this, attempts at self-kindness can become entangled with avoidance or self-criticism.

Research on self-compassion has found how it functions psychologically, that it is associated with greater emotional resilience, not because it removes distress, but because it changes how distress is processed. Research in 2007 found that “self-compassionate people appear to be more willing to acknowledge and accept negative aspects of themselves”. This willingness is clinically significant, as it is often the avoidance of internal experience that maintains suffering. Self-compassion, in this sense, is not about feeling better, rather it is about being able to feel without becoming defined by what is felt. An existential perspective, it has also been explored in research and situates self-compassion within a broader engagement with suffering and meaning. Research in 2016 found that “the healing power of self-compassion lies in its ability to transform suffering into a meaningful human experience”. This framing moves away from symptoms and notes that suffering is not something to be eliminated but something to be understood and held within the context of a making meaning of one’s life.

The roots of these ideas can be traced back to Buddhist psychology, where compassion is considered a fundamental orientation toward suffering. The teachings associated with the Dalai Lama often emphasise that compassion involves recognition of shared humanity. As he writes, “if you want others to be happy, practice compassion; if you want to be happy, practice compassion”. While simple, this reflects an understanding that the boundaries we draw between self and other are often more permeable than they appear.

Across these perspectives, there is a consistent theme of self-relating. This has implications for how things work in therapy and how people can change by attending therapy. Many therapy approaches focus on modifying thoughts or behaviours, which can be effective but may leave underlying relational patterns intact. Self-compassion, by contrast, speaks to the way a person meets themselves in moments of difficulty. It is less about what is thought and more about how those thoughts are held. People who experience persistent self-criticism or shame are often not lacking in insight. They may already understand the origins of their distress or recognise the distortions in their thinking. What is often absent is a sense of internal safety. 

This is why the relational context matters. Self-compassion is often first encountered interpersonally, through the experience of being understood and not judged. Over time, a person can begin to internalise the experience. The therapist’s stance becomes a kind of model that can be followed, not in a prescriptive sense, rather as a lived experience of another way of being. There is also a need to be cautious about how self-compassion is framed culturally. In some contexts, it can be misunderstood as self-indulgence or weakness. Neff addresses this directly, noting that “self-compassion is not a way of judging oneself positively, self-compassion is a way of relating to oneself kindly”. This distinction matters, particularly for individuals who have been misled to believe that their worth is contingent on performance or achievement.

Self-compassion is not a technique to be applied forcefully. It involves turning toward what is difficult, recognising it as part of being human and responding with care for one’s Self. For many, this is not an intuitive process. It requires time, safety and often the presence of another. Whether therapy is focused on addressing a person’s challenges cognitively, relationally or somatically, to name a few ways, the question of how a person relates to themselves remains central. Self-compassion offers one way of engaging with that question as an ongoing practice of meeting oneself, again and again, in the midst of experience. A powerful stance to take in a world that is currently so polarising and harmful to so many. Self-compassion is gentle and courageous thing to engage in and therapy can be a safe place in which to practice.

For more information on Leo’s services, phone: 085 1300573, email: info@leomuckley.com.  www.leomuckley.com, social media: @leomuckleypsychotherapy.

In a world governed by an unwritten code of behaviour and appropriation, it can feel, as an autistic person, permanently unsafe. Unsafe to be yourself. You find yourself asking: Am I getting it right? Replaying conversations and interactions, wondering if you’ve offended someone, then breathing a sigh of relief when you see them again and they don’t seem unhappy with you. But even then, doubt creeps in. Maybe they’re just pretending.

This is a familiar place for many neurodivergent people who have learned, from a young age, to wear a mask. To suppress their natural way of being because they’ve been told, directly and indirectly, that it isn’t acceptable. I’ve spoken often about these unseen systems, the structures that shape how we operate as a society. But who created them? And why are we expected to fit into one or two narrow, binary ways of thinking and behaving?

As an autistic person, I can see how hard I’ve worked to be malleable, to become what I thought others wanted me to be. I learned to people-please, to avoid confrontation, to stay below the radar. Being quiet, compliant, even docile felt safer. In recent years, with a deeper understanding of my neurodivergence, I’ve realised I don’t need to bend myself to maintain relationships with people who only accept me on their terms. In fact, I’ve come to recognise the hollowness of relationships built on control and subtle manipulation.

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to find a small number of friends who accept me as I am, and whom I accept as they are: human, generous, and imperfect. Around these people, I don’t feel judged, and I don’t judge them. That doesn’t mean we always agree. We don’t. We disagree, we fall out, but we’re willing to talk, to repair what’s been misunderstood. We don’t take disagreement as a personal attack. We can say hard things, and we can hear them, because we remain open to the possibility that we might be wrong.

This, to me, is the great value of friendships among neurodivergent people. There is a shared directness, an honesty. What we say and how we behave tends to reflect what we genuinely think and feel. If I ask a friend something, I trust I’ll get a truthful answer. Sometimes that truth is uncomfortable, but the safety it creates far outweighs the discomfort. There is no need to perform, no need to pretend. And that is a profound gift, especially in a world where I have, at times, believed relationships were genuine only to discover, painfully, that I had misread them.

By contrast, relationships shaped by mixed signals can be deeply confusing. When someone appears warm and engaged in person but withdraws or excludes you elsewhere, it creates a disorienting contradiction. As a neurodivergent person, I find it far easier to accept that someone simply doesn’t like me. That’s okay. It’s not possible to like everyone. What’s difficult is the pretence.

We don’t need to be unkind, but we also don’t need to perform connection where it doesn’t exist. We can be honest, compassionately. The idea that we’re meant to be friends with everyone is both exhausting and untrue. We won’t connect with everyone, and that’s natural. It doesn’t prevent coexistence. It doesn’t rule out the possibility that, over time, circumstances might change and connection might grow. Difference is not a deficit; it is simply difference.

Real relationships involve friction. Disagreement is not the problem. How we navigate it is what reveals our humanity. Do we retreat into silence, blame, or gossip? Or do we step into honesty, expressing how we feel while remaining open to perspectives that differ from our own?

For me, real relationships are places where I can finally relax, where I can show up as myself and feel accepted. I don’t have to shrink or edit who I am. My friends feel the same, and that mutual freedom is a gift.

Perhaps, as humans, we might pause the next time we are tempted to silence, ridicule, or dismiss someone, and ask ourselves: why does this feel acceptable? If we are to become truly capable of collaboration, we need to embrace honesty. We don’t have to like everyone, but we can still relate with respect. Real friendships will include friction and, at times, hurt, but it is in how we repair those moments that our humanity is most clearly revealed.

The pelvic floor is a complex and vital group of muscles, ligaments, and connective tissues that stretch across the base of the pelvis, supporting the bladder, uterus, and bowel. For women, the health and strength of the pelvic floor are crucial throughout life — from puberty through pregnancy, childbirth, and menopause. Maintaining a healthy pelvic floor is essential not only for physical wellbeing but also for emotional health, confidence, and overall quality of life.

One of the primary roles of the pelvic floor is to provide structural support to the pelvic organs. These muscles act like a hammock or sling, keeping the bladder, uterus, and rectum in their correct positions. When the pelvic floor is weakened — due to factors such as pregnancy, childbirth, aging, or hormonal changes — women may experience pelvic organ prolapse, where one or more of these organs descend and press against the vaginal walls. This can cause discomfort, pressure, or even pain, significantly affecting daily life and mobility. A strong functioning pelvic floor helps prevent prolapse and supports long-term pelvic health.

Another key function of the pelvic floor is maintaining continence. The muscles control the opening and closing of the urethra and anus, allowing for proper bladder and bowel control. Weakness in these muscles can lead to urinary incontinence, a common but often under-discussed issue among women. This can occur as stress incontinence — leaking during coughing, sneezing, or exercising — or urge incontinence, where there is a sudden, intense need to urinate. Strengthening the pelvic floor through targeted acupuncture has been shown to reduce or even eliminate these symptoms, restoring confidence and comfort in daily life. Perhaps most surprising incontinence affects many young female athletes and acupuncture can be a valuable tool to improve their bladder health.

The pelvic floor also plays a significant role in sexual health. These muscles are involved in arousal, orgasm, and overall sexual function. When the pelvic floor is strong and flexible, it can enhance sexual sensation and satisfaction. Conversely, when the muscles are weak or overly tight, women may experience pain during intercourse or reduced sensitivity. Acupuncture can relax tight muscles and reset and activate muscles that are not working. To contribute to a more fulfilling sexual experience and improved intimacy.

Pregnancy and childbirth place unique demands on the pelvic floor. During pregnancy, the growing uterus exerts increased pressure on these muscles, while hormonal changes make the tissues more elastic in preparation for birth. Vaginal delivery can stretch or even damage the pelvic floor, leading to weakness or dysfunction postpartum. Acupuncture postpartum aids recovery. Especially after surgery to reduce the risk of incontinence, promote healing and increasing the chances of a vaginal birth after a caesarean.

As women age, the pelvic floor can become more vulnerable, as oestrogen levels decline during menopause and muscles naturally weaken and the tissues lose elasticity. In conclusion the pelvic floor is a cornerstone of women’s health at every age. Influencing core stability, continence, sexual function and overall wellbeing. Despite its importance, it is often overlooked or discussed only after problems arise.

Education, awareness and regular pelvic floor acupuncture can empower women to develop a strong core, maintain bladder and bowel control, support pelvic organs and improve overall pelvic stability and strength. Enhancing function, confidence, comfort, and quality of life.

Amanda Roe is an acupuncturist and clinical hypnotherapist, who specialises in women’s health. She offers a range of therapies including acupuncture for pelvic floor dysfunction, pain and fertility. She combines this with clinical hypnotherapy to help people suffering with trauma, fears, phobias and eating disorders. For more information or to book a consultation visit www.roehealth.ie or call/text Amanda on: 087 6331898.

When teenagers begin to fall in love, everything feels amplified. A text message can make their entire day. A delayed reply can unravel it. A breakup can feel like the end of the world. For many parents, this stage brings a mix of nostalgia, fear, protectiveness, and discomfort. We worry about heartbreak, sex, consent, online exposure, and whether our teen is ‘ready’. In the midst of that worry, we often miss a quieter question: what do teens actually wish we understood about their experience of love and relationships?

First, they wish we knew that their feelings are real.It can be tempting to minimise teenage romance. We call it ‘puppy love’. We assume it won’t last. We tell them they’re too young to know what love is. But emotionally and neurologically, adolescent attachment is powerful. The teenage brain is highly sensitive to reward and rejection. Dopamine systems are particularly active during adolescence, which means romantic connection can feel intensely meaningful. When we dismiss their feelings, we don’t protect them from pain; we isolate them in it.

Teens want their emotions to be taken seriously, even if their choices are still developing. They want space to talk about attraction, jealousy, confusion, and desire without being laughed at or interrogated. When parents respond with sarcasm, panic, or moral lectures, teens often retreat. Not because they don’t care about our opinion, but because they don’t feel safe bringing their inner world to us.

They also wish we understood that relationships today look different than they did when we were young.

Much of teen romantic life now unfolds through screens. Flirting happens over Snapchat. Conflicts erupt in group chats. Breakups can go viral within minutes. The digital layer adds intensity and permanence. A private mistake can become public humiliation. A rumour can spread before a teen has time to process what even happened.

This is why conversations about love and sex can’t stop at “Don’t do anything you’ll regret”. Teens are navigating a landscape where boundaries are blurred and pressure is constant. They need guidance that includes digital consent, image sharing, coercion, and respect in online spaces. They need to know that consent isn’t just about saying no to sex. It’s about saying yes or no to touch, to photos, to emotional expectations, to public disclosure.

At the heart of what teens wish we knew is this: they are trying to figure out who they are in relationship to others.

Adolescence is a period of identity formation. Romantic relationships become a mirror. Am I desirable? Am I lovable? Do I have to change to keep someone? What happens if I disappoint them? These questions sit quietly beneath the surface of many teen relationships. When a young person tolerates disrespect, it is rarely because they don’t see it. It’s often because they are afraid that asserting a boundary will cost them connection.

This is where parents play a crucial role. Not by policing every interaction, but by modelling what healthy relationships look like. Teens are watching how we speak to our partners, how we handle disagreement, how we apologise, how we repair. They are learning what love looks like long before they start dating.

They also need a home environment where shame is not the primary language. Shame shuts down dialogue. If a teen senses that any mention of sex will trigger panic or moral judgment, they will not come to you when something goes wrong. And something eventually will go wrong. A confusing encounter. A boundary crossed. A situation they didn’t know how to handle. The question is not whether your teen will face complexity in relationships. The question is whether they will feel safe telling you about it.

Shame-free dialogue does not mean permissiveness. It means calm, grounded conversation. It means saying, “I may not agree with every choice you make, but I want you to be safe and respected”. It means asking, “How did that feel for you?” instead of “Why would you do that?” It means separating behaviour from worth.

Many teens also wish their parents understood how confusing consent can feel in real life. In theory, consent is clear: it should be enthusiastic, informed, and freely given. In practice, teens navigate peer pressure, fear of rejection, alcohol, mixed signals, and internalised beliefs about what they ‘owe’ someone. Girls, in particular, often carry messages about being accommodating. Boys may carry pressure to initiate and perform. LGBTQ+ teens may be navigating visibility and safety at the same time.

What helps is not a single ‘talk’, but an ongoing conversation about boundaries and bodily autonomy that starts early and evolves over time. Teens benefit from hearing that they are allowed to change their minds. That silence is not consent. That feeling unsure is enough reason to pause. That real intimacy includes emotional safety, not just physical closeness.

They also need to hear that heartbreak will not destroy them.

When a teen’s first serious relationship ends, the grief can be intense. Parents sometimes rush to distract or minimise: “You’ll find someone else.” “It wasn’t that serious.” But heartbreak in adolescence can feel like a collapse of identity. It is often their first experience of deep attachment and loss. Sitting with them in that pain, without immediately reframing it, teaches resilience. It communicates that big emotions are survivable.

Underneath all of this is a deeper wish: teens want to be trusted as emerging adults, not treated as reckless children.

They are not fully mature. Their prefrontal cortex is still developing, which affects impulse control and long-term thinking. But they are capable of reflection when given space. When parents shift from control to collaboration, something changes. Instead of laying down rules in isolation, we can ask, “What do you think a healthy relationship looks like?” “What would you do if you felt pressured?” “How can we make sure you’re safe?”

These conversations do not guarantee perfect choices. But they build something more important: relational safety.

Emotional safety at home creates a foundation from which teens can explore the outside world. When they know they can return to a space where they are not shamed for their curiosity or punished for their vulnerability, they are more likely to ask questions before things escalate.

Love and sexuality are not side topics in adolescence; they are central developmental tasks. Avoiding them does not delay them. It simply pushes them underground. Bringing them into the light, with steadiness and openness, helps teens integrate desire with dignity, attraction with agency, and connection with consent.

What teens wish their parents knew is not complicated. They wish we knew that their feelings are real, their confusion is normal, their mistakes are part of learning, and their dignity matters. They wish we would talk with them, not at them. They wish we would stay calm enough to be their safe place, even when the topic makes us uncomfortable.

When we offer that, we do more than protect them. We teach them that love should feel safe, that boundaries are healthy, and that respect is not negotiable. And those lessons, far more than any rule, are what they will carry into every relationship that follows.