Pádraig Belton

The utter lovely villageness of Ireland. Yesterday, spotted someone’s debit card in a car park. (I was buying 24 doughnuts, donut judge me.) Popped a note in a local group. Five minutes later, two people rang the owner; we met at the church where our daughters both take ballet. Ireland is a village.

Happy seventh birthday, my little fellow. There is nothing in the world that makes me happier than to be your friend and father.

I may have an 8 pm flight but my little kitchen helpers and I are still making ALL the pancakes first.

So many thanks (I think) to the kind woman who spotted the very last Nutella, and saved #pancakeday. Would’ve otherwise been crêpe.

Surprising my lovely and quite long-suffering wife now with a Valentine’s weekend in Venice. So I said to Venice, you’re gondolova.

Heartbroken for colleagues at the Washington Post, losing jobs today at the home of Woodward and Bernstein as Bezos cuts foreign desks, DC coverage, even the books section. (This email going to subscribers as the news broke shows US journalism is not in a good place.) Courage to all who struggle on.

My friend Zhanna’s INCREDIBLY lovely mum had been hearing about me since our first week together at Yale - and had been waiting for years to make me honey cake in Kazakhstan. And WHAT a honey cake it was… 🍰🐝

(Runs through Istanbul airport at 1 am, squeaky bum connection)

Fella: You rushin’?
Me: Jesus I’m Irish

Back to Dublin. Pining for NYC city lights and street noise but Jesus we are a nice country all the same. Where we wave pedestrians and other drivers on, and the Gardaí  – even if their new soft caps are awful – still stop and chat and don't even a bit shoot you.

I hadn’t thought I’d find inspiration in the world in 2026, but by God the people of Iran are dishing it out in droves. I am awed. #IranRevolution

The Swedish for ‘speed’ is fart. The word for ‘end, finished, all gone’ is slut.

A friend writes: “I live in Sweden and between all of the ‘fart’ and ‘slut’ signs (the latter often written in large text on cafe wall menus) I’m barely keeping it together.”

TAYTO! The little eejits left Santa Tayto! #Nollaig

For anyone who fancies joining - tomorrow eve I’m raiding ALL the bookshops of Charing Cross Road for pressies (possibly by way of a tipple after?)

Likewise, if you can think of books I should be giving … I like big books and I cannot lie 📚😎

And the darkness comprehended it not… My thoughts with the Jews of Sydney.

Goodness - I hope you’re all better. (And right back at you!)

Eggnog for Ukraine. And books on (eg) flirting in Ukrainian, to fill the Christmas stockings. Come if you’re in London! The hangover will be all gone by (Orthodox) Christmas. 🎄🇺🇦

My flat was savaged by a tornado that chugged a Red Bull and challenged a hurricane to a dance-off. My stories, had I self-respect, I’d have filed in September. But there’s a magic to writing by a tree, in firtree-flavoured air, by flickering lights, sentences punctuated by the odd tumbling bauble.

Oops, I did it again. So grateful to the London Marathon organisers for giving me a media place! And looking forward – as with next year in NYC – to continue doing all my marathoning to support @amnesty 🕯️when human rights are under threat across the world. So: who's in my London class of '26 fam? 🎉

Last night in Gloucestershire a black cat found me 🐈‍⬛
I then ended up sleeping with two black cats. 🐈‍⬛ 🐈‍⬛
Lads I am living in a cathouse.

Apparently I’m on this DUB-LHR BA flight enough they asked if I’d like a go in the first officer’s chair! 🤣 (The captain was an ex-Red Arrow- I took some pictures for an aeroplane mad six year-old…)

Wake up and message friends in Kyiv after a brutal night of Russian onslaught. 

‘Yeah it was a little loud here but all good :) Slept in the bomb shelter most of the night. Busy there. Quite a few people and pets.’

We talk about Blitz spirit. This, my friends, is the literal Blitz spirit in 2025.

Fall out my Dublin doorstep, en route to school run and airport, and trip over the postman. ‘Oh I’ve left a letter for you, Pádraig. It didn’t look like a bill. It looks more like an invitation.’

Told him I’d been a good boy and deserved it. We don’t half deserve An Post.

Taking off from Dublin airport. The entire airport as much as possible, taxiing and takeoffs, pauses at 1100 for the one minute’s silence. 🌺

In London. I have a five year-old British Ukrainian girl teaching me all the important words:

Kokashka poop
Peesha wee wee
Toalet toilet
Pook pook fart

I’m a weekly or so commuter between Dublin and London. Each week, I carry empty suitcases to London, to bring my clothes back to Dublin. The only way this is possible is if I unknowingly fly naked Dublin to London each week, and everyone is too polite to mention it.

‘Six-seven’: what does the latest slang mean (and should parents be worried)? It originated in a rap song, then featured in South Park, and is now the bane of schoolteachers in the US and UK as pupils shout it out at random. How did it become such a thing?

You are, my friend, so very lucky: www.theguardian.com/society/2025...

At least I’ve convinced the kids on my doorstop to start shouting ‘sé seacht’ at passersby, instead of ‘six seven’. We take the small wins.

I’m binge watching Black Mirror when I finish writing each night. So I can cheer myself up by the thought that instead of being a journalist with a doctorate to finish, maybe I just live in a horror tech dystopia instead.

It rained on the last day of our @athleticsireland.bsky.social Halloween camp. So this being Ireland, these ghouls, ninjas, and princesses set up hurdles inside and blasted Zombie 🧟🎃☘️💚

So Carlotta covered me with fake blood to coach on #Halloween but I just look like I shaved 🤷‍♂️

I'm running a little athletics camp this week for @athleticsireland.bsky.social in inner-city Crumlin. The idea is, keep kids off screens and active during half term.
Here's us today managing admirably with Irish weather ☔️☘️