Noirin ni riain biography sampled

Excerpted from "Listen with the Ear of the Heart: An Autobiography"

I can't remember exactly when I first began the ritual of stealing into my parents bedroom to 'say' Mass.

But I can recall vividly the moment when the whole fantasy fell apart. Every day, around 4 o'clock, that parental bedroom became a private chapel where I 'said' rather than 'heard', Mass.

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The centrepiece of that room was a small fireplace of brown and grey tiles, which faced the big bay window. I would stand up on the little ledge of the fireplace and being ahead of my time, face out towards the congregation. The gangly oak tree outside danced and sang.

'For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in all the trees of the field shall clap their hands' (Isiah 55:12).

To the left of the 'altar', the ledge of the fireplace, was a statue of Mary. At its dead centre was a black and white crucifix with a three-dimensional image of Jesus.

With Mother an