My sister left a message on my phone, “Don’t panic, but we’ve had a small fire.” I called her.

My mother had put a leftover piece of Christmas hamper wrapping on the fire expecting it to turn to ash but it seemed to be made of sterner stuff and flared in an alarming manner [I think it was some kind of wood-like substance but I am unclear. Evidence is now burnt.] My mother yanked it out of the fire still burning. My parent’s front door can only be opened with a key (yes, from the inside and the outside, yes, I know it is spectacularly awkward) so in her wisdom, my mother decided to bear her burning wrapping to the back door – through 4 rooms. My father who was, until her arrival, sitting happily in one of them, leapt to his feet and opened the door for her. My father is 87 and normally walks with a stick. We can take this as a sign of the urgency and excitement attending my mother’s adventure or, alternatively, he is only pretending with that stick.

My brother was in the breakfast room and my mother asked him to open the back door. My brother has a fatal desire to get to bottom of everything and insisted on asking how on earth this had happened as my mother stood holding her makeshift torch and dropping bits of flaming wrapping on to the floor. My sister at this point rushed in and opened the back door, tossed out the burning wrapping and doused it with water.

“What lessons did we learn from this adventure?” I asked my mother. “That everyone is very slow except for your sister. And also that it’s very hard to get out of this house.”

When I was in Cork, my mother said, “Oh Anne, we would love if you could stay for longer.” “I know,” I said, “but, you know, they want me back home in Dublin too. I’m just so popular, everyone wants to have me stay.”

My sister interjected, “Actually, I’d say Dan [our brother] could take you or leave you.”

My brother stayed with us on Saturday night. I stayed up until midnight arguing with him about the economy. Then I put him on the floor in a sleeping bag. During the night the air mattress deflated. The cat sat on his head. He asked whether there could have been two cats in the room. There could have been; the neighbour’s cat has worked out how the cat flap works. At 7, the cat began miaowing loudly and insistently for her breakfast. At 7.10 she was joined by Michael who got his breakfast and ate it beside his uncle’s inert body. When I came down at 9.30, I told my brother he had to get up as we were going out at 10.30 and if he wanted a lift, he would have to be ready. About 10.20, he said that he might just let us go and walk into town by himself later.

Shortly afterwards, I was speaking to my sister and asked her whether she had been speaking to my brother since his stay. “Did he say anything?” I asked. “Only that the sooner you got a new house, the better.”

Thursday, July 19

We went on our annual pilgrimage to Leahy’s Fun Farm. It didn’t let us down. As ever, the tractors at the entrance were a huge, though to my mind, mildly mystifying, attraction:

There were encounters with animals which Michael didn’t bother with on the basis that he had a packet of crisps which he would rather eat:

It’s not cheap and it’s not slick but if you have children, I cannot recommend this place highly enough.

Friday, July 20

We went swimming first thing in the morning and despite how lovely it looked, it was freezing. There was a reason the beach was deserted.

The boys were keen to participate in Bible Camp which worked out very well as my mother and brother came down to visit. We all went out for lunch, then the boys peeled off to play soccer and learn verses of the bible in the care of large numbers of young adults who will certainly go to heaven for their virtue in running this thing during their holidays. My mother and I went for a stroll and my brother and herself contemplated the water.

Despite having been frozen earlier in the morning and not having her togs with her, she ventured in:

My mother and I volunteered to go back to the house to get towels. But we were slow and just as we were leaving the house, she came dripping up in her soaking clothes and said bitterly, “Where were you? I was just about to call Childline.”

Still, all in all, a huge success and another fine day making this undoubtedly, the best week of the Irish summer so far.

Still more to come. Nearly there now though. Tune in tomorrow when Mr. Waffle returns from the big smoke.

Sunday, July 15

We arrived in Cork to lashing rain. I forced my family and my brother and sister down to the park to see the World Street Performing championships. It was damp. I was wearing sandals and only successfully got the mud out of my feet by mid-week. The children whined. It was an inauspicious beginning. I was, however, proved right because, although the street performers did not hold the children’s attention there were ancillary excitements.
Like this:

And a zip line over the pond:

Say what you like about the rain, it makes for short queues. Also, the sun shone, very briefly. After our mud stop in Cork we said goodbye to the grandparents and drove to Garryvoe in East Cork. My saintly friends M and R have a house there and we have stayed there many times. It’s a lovely house, very close to the beach and a relatively easy drive into Cork city. Even though the weather was not terrific, the children were very pleased to see the beach.

It was only when we got to Garryvoe that we discovered that the purchase of an e-reader for her had made little difference to the Princess’s packing habits:

My brother was in Poland for the football. He got on the train from where he was staying to go to the venue and there were loads of other Irish fans. He noticed one guy wearing a Cork city/Ireland shirt and being from Cork, he went to chat with him.

My brother admired the other guy’s shirt. Shirt guy was from West Cork and confirmed, upon my brother asking, that he went to almost all the Cork city matches. This requires a certain amount of dedication because driving from West Cork to the city takes a good hour. My brother was impressed. He confessed that he would like to wear a Cork city shirt too but felt that he couldn’t reasonably do so as he hadn’t attended matches since he had been in college. He confided to his new friend, “It’s so long ago that Johnny Caulfield was the top goalscorer”. To which shirt guy replied, “I am Johnny Caulfield”.

Last weekend, I went to London. I planned it a long time ago with my sister. We booked the tickets at the end of April. I then had this supremely irritating conversation with my brother.

Him: Mum says you paid a fortune for your tickets to London.
Me: Yes, I was really surprised how dear they were. I had no idea what the going rate was but I really didn’t expect to pay more than about €200.
Him: How much did you pay?
Me: Nearer 400.
Him: WHAT? When are you going?
Me: The weekend of the 19 and 20 May.
Him: That’s the Heineken cup final weekend!
Me: What?
Him: Leinster are playing Ulster in the rugby final.
Me: Oh right.
Him: HOW could you not know that?
Me: Some of us go our entire lives without knowing rugby fixtures.
Him: It seems a waste not to go to Twickenham since you’ll be there anyhow.
Me: But yet I am not tempted.
Him: But when you saw it was dear, why didn’t you check other weekends to see if they would be cheaper.
Me: But we’d agreed this weekend.
Him: But why didn’t you check?
Me: Look, it’s booked now, why are you torturing me this way?
Him: I’m trying to teach you how to fish.