Reillys mother was sick and tired of saying that Reilly was the laziest person she’d ever met and that he’d amount to nothing if he didn’t discipline himself. She was of a generation whose entire belief system was predicated on the belief that the secret to success in...

Reilly was intrigued with psychology and was constantly exploring what it was that set peak-performers apart. He maintained that if you could get inside the head of an uber-performer you could go a long way to replicating that in your own life too. To this end he had...

All morning long Reilly had trolled the deep waters off Inchagoill and the deck of his boat was brightly decorated with six portly trout. Just then the sun burst forth and the wind died a proverbial death. It wouldn’t take a Hemingway to know that...

It was the photo on the front page of Saturdays Financial Times that caught Reillys attention. He was still fit, handsome and exuded that persona of responsibility. The caption read ‘Irish Motor Tycoons Payout Exceeds £1 Billion.’ Long before self-service ever became...

'Reilly, I need you to call me,' was all it said on the voice message.  A fairly innocuous message if it had come from the mother or Flaherty or even the bank manager. Ominous in the extreme however, if it was from your cardiologist. He replayed the message hoping he...

Everyone knew Reilly had the ear of Professor Keady, the eminent marine biologist and academic. Over the years they’d discussed several PhDs worth of matter on dogs, drink, duck shooting and daddy-long legs fishing. (And they’re only the ‘d.s’) It came to pass that a...

Reillys life changed utterly the day he met Jack Daly one fateful September day in 1998. The year to date had been one abysmal ‘annus horribilis’ for him. He’d lost much of his attitude; his confidence; his charisma and his sales results reflected that precisely. He...

People used often wonder how Reilly could always commandeer tickets to Ireland’s soccer internationals during the halcyon days of Jack Charltons era. And they weren’t just ordinary tickets. More often than not he’d be in the main corporate box hobnobbing with the good...

Reilly was in another world.  To be more accurate he was drifting over the sandy shallows that stretch between Mollys Rock and Birchall Point. There was a fresh south-westerly wind whipping a tipsy wave and there was a kind and warm sun with just enough light....

Reilly was as thick as thieves with Tom Kenny, the art curator, historian and joint-proprietor of the world famous Kenny’s Bookshop, Bindery and Art Gallery.  One beautiful Summers morning the two were driving in to open up the shop when Kenny’s was still down in...