Philip Judge’s tree is adorned with years of decorations, both tasteful and tawdry

Accumulated years of Irish winters mean crumbling plaster, sweaty floors and wilting newspapers

Dublin Theatre Festival: Intimate snapshots of life in Dublin 15 pair actors with locals. The results are top-notch

‘I often regret my lack of interesting socks – but they’re there. I just can’t find them’

We have dozens, some for making prosecco look like champagne, others for extinguishing fires

You want to grow to love your garden, not hate it. I adore my vegetable patch – but it is too large

Extending could mean letting go of olde worlde touches like headbanger doors

A strong wind took away the cheap gazebos, but a cherry tree gives us just the right shade

Whenever our neighour asked about the troublesome tank I would shrug and think of butterflies

Writer Philip Judge is sometimes visited by the relatives and descendants of others who have lived in his home

I have no technological tools for my small-scale husbandry, but I get a never-failing thrill when I fork over a ridge of dark clay to reveal a spill of new potatoes

This production in Belfast demonstrates how illusion works best when wrapped around a good story