Edaein O'Connell

When your own flesh and blood considers making a match with a septugenarian, it's time to reconsider the dating scene

I'm used to banter and low-level character assassination on dates and I don't know how to respond to such sincerity

While I'm a fan of cafes and restaurants for reuniting with friends and foes, if you asked me whether I'd rather grieve in a coffee shop or a pub, I'd choose the latter every single time

‘Well, Edwina,” the woman says. “What do you do for work?” I hate having to do it, but she needs to be corrected. “Apologies, but it’s actually Édaein. Edwina comes out after a few glasses of wine,” I joke. “And I’m a journalist.” She seems nonplussed by the correction. “Fair play to you, Édwina,” she says. “Fair play.”

Recently I found myself in O’Donoghue’s bar in Dublin singing for some Australians. They were friends of a friend. As the evening progressed, my singing got progressively louder and more obnoxious. At some point, a sharply dressed man joined our table and introduced himself as an entrepreneur, ­casually mentioning he was earning well into the six figures. He seemed particularly interested in my two friends, complimenting each of them on their hair.

Being a public brand can put pressure on relationships

Ah, another celebrity couple bites the dust. Sad? Very much so. Unexpected? Not particularly. Glued to it? Absolutely.

There's nothing cool about smoking – I wish I could tell my teenage self that I remember the first time I had a cigarette.

Valentia Island would be a heaving metropolis and Donegal would actually be connected to the rest of Ireland