Books:

Stop Coming To My House - Thoughts and Stories (Self-Published, 2011)

Games for Kids of the World (Pocketcultures, 2012) - Contributor

100 Favourite Places (Slow Travel Berlin, 2013) - Contributor

Letters from Berlin (The Pigeonhole, 2015) - Contributor

Stories from the City (Slow Travel Berlin, 2015) - Contributor

Berlin - A Literary Guide for Travellers (IB Tauris, 2016) - written together with Paul Sullivan

'In all, Berlin-A Literary Guide, is a lively and entertaining stroll through a historical Berlin covering a big section of at least those writers and figures who are currently interesting to intellectuals.' -

Nicolas Hausdorf, Hong Kong Review of Books

'Berlin: A Literary Guide for Travellers is a book to take out walking - just as a guidebook should be.'  

Harry Strawson, The Times Literary Supplement

 

Upcoming:

Babushka's Journey: The Dark Road to Stalin's Wartime Camps (IB Tauris, September 2017)

Do Not Walk Outside This Area - More Thoughts and Stories (tba, summer 2017)

 

Articles and essays (selection):

"It's close to midnight and Berlin's Hauptbahnhof central station is almost deserted. But on platform five, there are scenes of mild chaos. The City Night Line sleeper has just pulled in and passengers -- me among them -- are grabbing their luggage and eyeing up the carriages that, for the next eight hours, will be their hotel on wheels.

I've been fascinated by night trains ever since I first took a sleeper from Munich to the Hungarian capital Budapest 20 years ago. Back then such trains were still relatively common sights in European cities not yet in thrall to the budget airline revolution.

Today, it's a different story. Night services are in decline against the competition of cheap airfares and faster daytime intercity train services. Yet the allure of the trans-European night sleeper, the star of countless literary and film classics from Agatha Christie to James Bond, continues to endure.

So what's it like riding today's night sleepers?"

Can Europe's Last Sleeper Trains Survive? CNN Travel

“The German tourists on the bus laugh as the pack of feral dogs crosses the street at the airport roundabout. And why should they not? There are three dirty Jack Russell terriers and one lanky greyish-brown greyhound, an odd-looking combination for a modern day pack of hounds. The tourists do not know that the dogs hunt hares in the bushes and undergrowth around the business parks in Dublin 15, tearing them to pieces. The dogs leave shreds of paws and ears and bits of bone lying around the car parks for unsuspecting call centre workers. Dublin in autumn is a nice and gentle city only upon first glance.”

A tiny collection of Dublin myths Under A Grey Sky 

“Speaking of planes: Kurt-Schumacher-Platz must be the best place in Berlin for plane spotting. There’s something genuinely appealing about standing at the bus stop near the kebab stands and Chinese restaurants and watching the planes roar just 50 metres over your hand on their final approach to Tegel airport.
The locals, long used to the noise and the sight of planes with the landing gear extended, continue strolling and feeding the pidgeons without blinking. For visitors like me, it’s hard not to imagine the plane careening into the bus stop rather than the runway behind it.”

Berlin’s Ghost Stations Slow Travel Berlin

“Where does this leave my fellow expatriated Germans and I? Mostly at home or with the Italians. I never had the wish to mingle with other Germans while living in Ireland, and the other expats here seem to share the feeling. I am not sure if this is connected to the fact that we take longer than other nationalities to get acquainted, or with the fact that German cuisine never became as famous as pasta and pizza.”

The only Würstchenbude in town Daily Telegraph

“We were somewhere around Staður on the edge of the stone desert when the tiredness began to take hold. I remember saying something like ‘the road isn’t that bad; I can drive all the way…’ And suddenly there was a terrible crash when we took a bump in the gravel road too fast, the front of the silver Toyota rising skywards and the rear axle crashing through the gravel. Upon landing, the car swerved from left to right, sliding on the loose brown gravel like a fat drunken ballerina on the floorboards of a pub. Kai in the seat next to me was gripping the handle of his door so tight that his knuckles were all white. I slowed down and got the car under control, wiping invisible sweat from my forehead and grinned at Kai and the two hitchhiking girls in the backseat. ‘Everybody alright?’ Eager nodding of three heads but no responses, their lips being pressed tightly together, eyes staring at the deep icewater-filled ditches to the left and the right of the road. No point mentioning those Arctic Terns, I thought. The poor bastards will see them soon enough.”

Fear and Loathing in Ísafjörður Sonic Iceland