Sinead Dockery from Saatchi an that, guest blogs here to tell us what she'd do if she had a time machine.
Ferron was a farrier, a wild boy from the wilds of Cork. He sang in a made-up language and rode bareback on his stolen horse through the rain. We met outside the SPAR and we drank his whiskey down by the misty shore. By the next week I was good and knocked up, which is still a dangerous thing for a young girl to be in Ireland. It made me though. It made me question all that shite. I defied those spiteful coffin-dodgers, enough to leave forever. And even though all the things I’ve seen and done would make the worn -out girls I left behind puke in jealousy, nothing has come close to that first night with Ferron. If I had a time machine I’d go back to then.
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