As my nephew and I sat into the car to begin our journey home from the All-Ireland football final, we turned on the radio to listen to the tail-end of RTÉ 1’s post-match coverage.

Halloween wasn’t over before Christmas merchandise was on the shelves of shops throughout the land. We’ve become used to that over the last decade.

A post on X (what used to be called a tweet) last week summed up the feelings of many people around the world.

Matthew Perry’s candid and often harrowing autobiography opens with the following lines: “Hi, my name is Matthew, although you may know me by another name. My friends call me Matty. And I should be dead.

For the Irish rugby team, the dream is over. A team that has captured the imagination of the country over the last two years failed to smash through the glass ceiling and reach a World Cup semi-final. This time, it felt like it would be different.

As the horrors unfolded in Israel and Gaza last weekend, it prompted comparisons with our own peace process and how visionaries and risk-takers dictate the paths nations take for generations.