A personal tribute to the late author, who revelled in anti-authoritarian and mischievous attitudes, and whose mantra was ‘you should never want your travelling to be easy’
The last time I saw Dervla was a few years ago, before lockdown, when she invited me for lunch at her home in Lismore, County Waterford. The meal was an agreeably liquid affair. One of Dervla’s great passions was beer. If Thesiger could cross the Empty Quarter just for a glass of water, Dervla was happy to cross Rwanda just for the pleasure of a glass of African stout.
Bottle in hand and holding court on a sofa with that familiar, determined gleam in her eye, she complained vigorously about how difficult it was to visit friends or travel with her now increasing age – although I did point out how much of her 80s had been spent roughing it in difficult areas of Palestine, which produced a final – and fine – pair of books.
