This year he has brought us a four day weekend and, honestly, nothing could be more welcome.
Poor Daniel is sick though recovering. A negative Covid test but a bit miserable all the same. Mr. Waffle, Michael and I turned up for 11.30 mass in our local church only to discover that masses were at weekday rather than Sunday times. Mass was over. Alas. Michael rejoiced, naturally.
Trying to find out where to get a 12.00 mass in Dublin is very difficult. The archdiocese categorises by church and while I can see that might be handy in a general way, it was not useful on this occasion. I found an excellent English website which listed all the masses in Dublin by time and then by location. Not so godless after all, it appears. Anyway we went in to town to the church in Whitefriar street to find them locking the gates against us. No 12 o’clock mass. We actually tried to visit the other week to take in its shrine to St. Valentine and relics and the door was briskly (and I felt slightly gleefully) shut against us by the same man. The house of the Lord is always open indeed. Mind you we had had to skirt the parade to get there and even at that early hour, not all of the parade goers seemed sober. So perhaps a wise precaution on balance. We eventually got 12.30 mass in St. Theresa’s on Clarendon street where they had gone all out with the music and had a lovely solo singer and all manner of musical instruments including perhaps bagpipes? Anyway they played us out to the quintessential St. Patrick’s day hymn, “Hail Glorious St. Patrick” very nicely done.
Mr. Waffle and I tried to get home and around the parade but to no real avail so eventually we gave it up as a bad job and watched a bit of the parade. Views were poor but I love to see people leaning out of the windows upstairs in city centre buildings (it reminds me of this picture):
Then we had lunch in town and went home about 3 before it all became a bit too raucous. A lot of people waving Ukrainian flags as well as Irish ones and the authorities had bedecked the city in both. This chimes with our official St. Patrick’s day message which focuses on Ukraine.
In unrelated news, I found where all the jam jars in the utility room have disappeared to; they’re hidden in the shed. Our facilities for summer jam and jelly making are intact. And the way things are going, we might need them.
Finally Aunt is still in hospital, seems to be reasonably well but the hospital is now closed to visitors due to surging Covid cases. It hasn’t gone away, I suppose although there was nary a mask to be seen in town today. Another colleague tested positive yesterday but I am now much less unnerved by this than I used to be. I wonder is that entirely a good thing.