Family

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 4 – Munster

30 August, 2020 3 Comments
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

I contemplated driving to Cork but I just couldn’t face it after driving up from Connemara the previous day so, rather daringly, I took the train for the first time since lock down started at the end of March.

Everyone was wearing a mask including me. It felt so uncomfortable for three hours on the train. And, obviously, no tea trolley. I should really have predicted that.

The voyage passed off uneventfully and I had brought my bike on the train so cycled up to my parents’ house from the station. It was a beautiful sunny day and quite a nice cycle. I stopped off in the market to pick up the wherewithal to make myself a sandwich and it was all very pleasant and holiday like.

It was lovely to see my father who looked better than when I had seen him last and was gratifyingly pleased to see me. After a couple of hours chatting to him, I went to look up something on my phone. Could I find it? I could not. I walked down the road to see if it could have fallen out of my pocket while cycling. I couldn’t see it. I called Mr. Waffle on the landline to tell him the news – he asked whether I had taken his house keys to Cork. I had not but in that mistaken belief, he and Daniel had to take a taxi to GAA training. His keys turned up later. I decided I’d better ring the Guards and see whether anyone had found it. My father’s habit of typing up important numbers and taping them to the inside of his diary came into its own as I found myself wondering how I would work out the Garda station phone number without a phone. I reflected on all the things that would be gone – all my holiday photos, my contacts, my notes, the general awkwardness. I rang my number one last time on the off chance and, hallelujah, it was answered. A woman from up the road had found it when she was cycling home and taken it to safety. I was grateful. It’s slightly weird how discombobulated I felt without it.

Meanwhile the nation went backwards on Covid and we were told that we could only have 6 people indoors and that we should avoid public transport. I was quite grateful the announcement was made after my train journey as otherwise I would have felt obliged to take the car, I think.

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

I got myself up early and went into the Crawford gallery for a look at the pictures and, rejoice, the cafe had reopened so I had a delightful breakfast also. Holiday thrills. Although it did lash rain.

I dropped in to see my 91 year old aunt who was pleased to see me. These days I keep asking my father and aunt slightly odd questions about their lives on the basis that they won’t be around forever. I wondered what my aunt had called her mother, my granny. Was it Mum, Mam, Mama perhaps? “Muddy boots,” she said firmly. She is a little deaf, so I tried again. She stuck with “Muddy boots”. On investigation, short for mother apparently. My family are so odd.

I got the train back to Dublin that evening. It’s funny how quickly you get used to things. I’d found the mask awful on the way down but I barely noticed it on the way back to Dublin.

And that was largely that for my four provinces tour. I appreciate Leinster and Munster didn’t get the same treatment as Ulster and Connaught but I did do the four corners of the country. Herself says I should call this diary of a super spreader. Oh how we laughed. Hope your own holidays went well also.

Cork!

19 July, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Work

Saturday, July 11, 2020

We finally got on the road to Cork. Let joy be unconfined. A friend of mine has a holiday house in Kinsale and as she and her family are based in the US and unable to travel this year, she suggested I should go down and I decided that that might make a nice change now that nationwide travel is again possible.

Daniel fell asleep in the car. He explained to us that he had been awake all night as his wrist was so sore. Ominous.

We stopped off in Cork on the way to Kinsale to get supplies and to visit my father. Cork was looking delightful, I must say.

My father was only alright but he perked up a bit when he got the chance to examine Daniel’s (carefully sanitised) wrist. “A bad sprain,” he pronounced, “or possibly a scaphoid fracture, he’s going to need an x-ray.” We took Daniel to the clinic and they took an x-ray and diagnosed a bad sprain. He got a support for his wrist and we were finally free to go on to Kinsale.

My friend’s house is in Sandycove, just outside the town and it has one of the best settings of any holiday house I have ever been in. The views are delightful.

Sunday, July 12, 2020

I was sorry that poor Daniel’s sore wrist meant that he wouldn’t be able to kayak or swim but he had a better night with his support and slept fine.

The day started off overcast but the weather cleared as the day went on. Herself developed an inexplicable interest in Greek and she and Mr. Waffle spent a happy hour sitting together going through the basics (mostly the alphabet as far as I could tell) while the boys played Magic (if you don’t know, you’re better off) in their bedroom. There was no real internet – coverage was poor and I didn’t want to use my friend’s wifi with a data cap. We were thrown back a bit on our own resources and I was surprised how ok that was for all of us.

My brother cycled to Kinsale to visit us. It’s 30kms from Cork city but as he explained, he had to get a pump from a friend in Waterfall so he came the long way and did 45kms. I am baffled. He called me to get directions to the house. “I’m coming into Sandycove now, where is it?” he asked. As I was talking to him, Mr. Waffle was saying, “I can hear him.” Fortuitously, he had called for directions from the bottom of the drive. We were all pleased to see him and he promised to come back later in the week to try out the kayaks.

Myself and the Princess went out for an experimental kayak. It was satisfactory. We swam as well. A bit on the chilly side. The set up for the kayaks was excellent with private access to the shore from across the road from the house and, better again, a nearby island to kayak out to.

Then we went into Kinsale for a stroll. It is a very attractive little town and although I’ve known it all my life (even had my wedding reception there), it’s still lovely to visit.

Because I had briefly lost my mind and, I suppose, because there was no internet, I agreed to play monopoly. I still hate monopoly. Only one person left in a huff. For reasons I cannot explain the version of monopoly my friend has in Kinsale features St Barth. I now know more about property values in this Caribbean paradise than I expected to after a week in Kinsale.

Monday, July 13, 2020

It was lashing rain. I was on to work first thing and as coverage in the house was pretty poor, I had to drive the car around the corner to talk to people. Maybe not the best start to the week.

On the plus side, Daniel said his wrist was much, much better. The hospital rang saying they wanted to do another x-ray to check something that was unclear from the first one. A mixed report then.

A friend of Mr. Waffle’s who has bought a house in Kinsale and currently getting it renovated came to visit. She’s from Cork but based in London and had been self-isolating at her mother’s house for a fortnight. She found it tough going, I think. There were loads of English accents in Kinsale and, although a lot of English people live in the area, I have to say, some of them definitely looked like holiday makers. Other non-Irish visitors seemed thin on the ground.

That afternoon, Daniel’s wrist was so much better that he wanted to go out on the kayak. I was a bit reluctant but himself and Michael went out and had a great time, so I think we can probably rule out those concerns about a broken bone.

My father’s uncle and aunt had a house in Sandycove and after dinner, Mr. Waffle and I went for a look. It was a lovely Georgian hunting lodge and I experienced definite regret that it had been sold on rather than going to their deserving nephew and niece (Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia didn’t have any children of their own and my father and aunt were the only children on that side of the family, there are lots of things from that house that ended up in my parents’ house and some even in mine. By all accounts Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia were absolutely lovely, they certainly had lovely things).

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Feeling extremely sorry for myself, I got up at 7.30 in the morning and did 90 minutes of hard labour on the laptop. My general sorriness for myself was tempered by observing Mr. Waffle who, also very busy, got up at 4.30 to finish something. Note to file, no more July holidays.

In ongoing success for Tuesday, I took the family to the Old Head of Kinsale where I have been many, many times. Not since the 90s though, it appears, as all access for non-golfers has been blocked since then. I knew about the travesty that was building a golf course on the Old Head but I thought some limited access for walkers had been retained. My mistake.

We went back into Kinsale and walked to St. Multose’s church. You may recall that I have become fascinated by the dramatist Lennox Robinson who it turns out was from Cork. I mean, who knew? His father was a curate in this church and his nephew put in a stained glass window so we went to have a look. Lennox Robinson’s sister married one of the Dormans who were a big family in Kinsale and I was pleased when Mr. Waffle told me that he noticed that there is still a scion of the Dormer family on one of the church committees. Ah continuity.

Then we walked out to Scilly and had lunch in the Bulman. A traditional pleasure which seemed largely unchanged and, for me, was only marred by fielding a brief work call. The restaurant seemed fine – only one menu per table and a sign at the door asking you not to come in, if coming from abroad and you hadn’t self-quarantined for 14 days, but otherwise pretty much as normal.

We did some brief shopping in Kinsale and then Daniel and I kayaked out to the island.

Mr. Waffle and I fielded some last work calls and then it was time for dinner.

After dinner, he and I and the Princess walked out the headland to get a good look at Aunt Cecilia and Uncle Jack’s house. I did feel a mild pang. My father has always been strongly against holiday houses on the, not unreasonable, grounds that then you have to go to the same place on holidays every year. But I quite like going back to the same place. My father said that when Jack was getting work done on the house, everything went wrong – the builder went bust etc.- and for the duration, he and Cecilia put up at the Imperial hotel on the South Mall. The glamour, lads. He was an engineer and he designed a turf powered central heating system for the house. Revolutionary for its time, I’m sure, but I would imagine it has been replaced by now.

View from the house out to sea.

Herself was a bit glum as she wanted to spend a couple of days staying in a friend’s house in Cork but we vetoed it on Coronavirus grounds. It’s a bit hard to know what the rules are and I felt a bit of a heel as she has been so good but, on balance, we decided best not.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Mr. Waffle had a big meeting at 10 and I said that I would take the children to Cork for the day so we were up showered and in the car for 9.55. Quite the achievement, I can tell you. At 10.30, he rang to say that (very positive) developments meant that he did not actually have to work all day after all. We were in Cork by then so I left him to rejoice alone. On my own count I rejoiced also as I was not expecting any more work calls for the remainder of the week.

Herself and myself went into town in Cork leaving the boys in my parents house enjoying the thrill of re-connecting with the internet. It’s a bit weird going clothes shopping when you can’t try anything on so I failed to buy anything other than 6 vests for my father and a new teapot (a particularly middle aged haul) but herself got a couple of things. She bought herself a poké bowl in the market (it’s far from poké bowls etc).

We went back to Kinsale after lunch and my brother drove down to join us at about 5.30. We went out in the kayaks with him, went swimming (absolutely freezing), had dinner together and played 20 questions, it was lovely.

About 10.30, he said that he had better go and wondered aloud whether a) he would have enough petrol to get to Cork, the low fuel light was on and b) whether the garage in Kinsale was open. As to b) the answer was no. He went off into the darkness and I very much feared I would get a call to rescue him but no, he just managed to limp to Cork airport where he was able to fill up. Honestly, once a feckless younger brother, always a feckless younger brother.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

This was our last full day in Kinsale. Herself went into Cork city to meet a friend and Mr. Waffle, the boys and I went to Garrettstown beach. It’s my father’s favourite beach near the city and the place we almost always went when we were children. We took the body boards as it usually has great waves. The waves were not as fantastic as normal but Daniel and I still had an excellent time. Mr. Waffle went in only briefly and Michael, after a brief paddle, declared it just too cold.

I went up to Cork and paid a last visit to my father before collecting herself from town. She had been to the cinema which, she said, was an odd and almost solitary experience. She also said that a lot of shops in town weren’t letting in people who hadn’t the Covid tracker app. The previous day it was announced that pub openings would be delayed and that masks were to be compulsory in shops so perhaps everyone was just a bit more vigilant.

As it was our last night, I’d booked us in to a restaurant in Kinsale where I had been previously for lunch but never for dinner. It was busy enough. We had our temperature taken on the way in and there were screens between tables. Sadly our screen did not protect us from the noise of the cheerful but slightly drunken Dubliners at the next table who were celebrating the birthday of one of their number. The service was slow, the food was mediocre and the noise was deafening. Overall somewhat disappointing. Honestly, I’m just not sure how well this whole thing is going to work when people are drinking and eating out. I saw our waitress snap a picture of the drunken Dubliners on one of their phones. It’s all a bit worrying.

We scurried home to have dessert looking out at our view.

Friday, July 17, 2020

We left early on Friday morning as Mr. Waffle had a meeting in Dublin that afternoon. Quite honestly, it was one of the best holidays I have had. It was weirdly great not to have wifi. The house was really well set up for a family with every bit of kit you might need. The water and the kayaks were 100 metres away. The view was amazing and we all really needed a break. It was great to see my family. Notwithstanding work demands, I think everyone enjoyed it. Maybe we will go on holidays in July again.

Also, when we got home, our long awaited masks were in the hall. The postman had managed to get them though the letterbox so good news all round.

Plague Diary – Part XIV

29 June, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Travel

Monday, June 15, 2020

My sister sent us a care package – gifts for all! It was very thrilling. She sent me a new pair of very expensive headphones and they are complex to use but, ultimately, I expect to get on top of it.

It was my mother’s anniversary and I was a bit sad but alright really.

My little niece in London was three and her mother assured us that she liked the books we sent. She herself wasn’t entirely prepared to commit herself.

I had written a letter to my friend in America a while ago and she rang me to thank me for it and we chatted and she asked whether we were still going on holidays to America this summer. We are not (€5,000 in flights which, I fear, we will never get back, so bitter – I may have covered this previously – at least we got our accommodation money back, I suppose). She asked whether we would like to go to their summer house in Kinsale in July as, for obvious reasons, they are not going themselves this year. I decided that yes, we would. We are still tussling over payment; she refuses to accept any, Mr. Waffle insists, we’re at stalemate. Anyway, we’re going which is great, it’s a lovely house in Sandycove outside the town with beautiful views and adjacent Cork city. Hurrah. In other news, she and her husband are doctors and were fearing the worst in Vermont but she said that, somewhat to her surprise, it’s been fine there. So good for them.

Mr. Waffle went out to visit his mother for the first time since March. Nursing home visits are re-starting very slowly. She seemed ok but it was all a bit strange he said. He swung by his parents’ house which his brother is in the process of cleaning out and picked up an old round table which he thought would be good for the kitchen here. When he got it home, he reconstructed it in the utility room and it wouldn’t fit through the door to the kitchen so, now it lives there.

Herself got a notification that she was a finalist in an essay competition and was pleased.

Dan and I cycled to the re-opened public tennis courts after work. Dan was nearly hit by a speeding car (traffic is not yet back to normal and cars out and about are pretty speedy). It was so close that I actually felt physically ill afterwards and really wasn’t in form to play tennis which was just as well as all the courts were full and there was a big queue of people waiting to get on. We could really do with some extra cycle lanes round here.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My sister sent me a bunch of flowers for Mum’s anniversary but they only arrived today due to a mix up. My mother loved to have flowers in the house and so do I. I felt a bit tearful which was strange because the day before had been fine but it was the thoughtfulness of the flowers that did for me. Needless to say, I had sent her nothing.

I put them on my home office desk.

My friend R who is now retired and puts in time in a charity shop in Ranelagh tells me that they have a complete set of the most recent version of the full Oxford English Dictionary (1989 apparently) in 20 volumes and unless someone buys it soon it’s going to be pulped. €300 or nearest offer, I understand. A bit tragic, but who has room for 20 volumes of dictionaries?

I showed Daniel a photograph of my bookclub and he said in surprise, “I had no idea that they were all so old.” Alas.

Herself finally went back to the orthodontist and he snapped off the piece of metal that has been gouging holes in the side of her mouth for the last three months. So a win on that front but she has been too assiduous in putting on her bands (apparently most people don’t follow direction and they allow for that, honestly) and now she has to undergo some other hellish process. Alas.

I overheard herself and Mr. Waffle speaking in the kitchen. She said, “Mum believes saints are everyone who goes to heaven and not just those identified by the church.” I called out from the other room, “And I’m right.” She said, “Well we’ll only really know if you’re right when we’re dead.” Hmm.

Today was Bloomsday. Having listened to the audio book earlier this year, I felt uniquely ready but it wasn’t really the year to show off my newly acquired knowledge.

Wednesday, 17 June, 2020

Mr. Waffle went into town and bought us a new magimix the old one having finally died after many years of faithful service. He said it was pretty weird in the shops.

My father was finally discharged from hospital so that evening after work, I drove to Cork to see him. I found packing strange after all these months of staying at home. I had a letter from my father’s GP saying he was pretty ill (to cover my travelling about 230kms beyond the permitted 20kms) but in the event, no one stopped me. It’s funny because you think everyone is out there living it up travelling all over the country but they’re not. There were hardly any cars on the Dublin-Cork road and most of the traffic was freight.

I arrived to Cork and helped my father to bed. I thought I could stay 2 metres away but that was completely unrealistic. He really needed help walking and getting in to bed and taking off his shoes (one of his big toes points up in the air, a side effect of stroke he told me, he knew what it’s called in Latin but I have forgotten) and I wasn’t really in a position to stand 2 metres away and say, “Good luck with that” as he keeled over. I did wear my mask though which was quite disastrous as he is very deaf and, at the best of times, finds it hard to hear. He was really quite unwell and a bit grumpy but it was very nice to see him all the same.

My brother (an enthusiastic cyclist) told me that he had cycled to Kinsale (about 30 kms away) on Tuesday. When he was just outside the town, his chain had broken. As he was walking along the side of the road, a friend of his from school passed, picked him up and gave him a lift back to Cork. I mean, what are the odds? Not sure whether it was entirely coronavirus compliant but what was he to do?

Thursday, June 18, 2020

I was jerked awake at regular intervals all night by Radio 4 which was on at top volume. I would drift off and then be woken up by a new voice on the radio. At 6 in the morning, I could stand it no longer and marched in to my father’s bedroom to turn it off. I forgot to wear my mask. He was delighted to see me as I could help him get up. I refused on the grounds that it was much too early. He accepted this but as I was leaving asked me to turn on the radio again. Largely a defeat then.

Later, I helped him up and, after giving him breakfast, ensconced my father in his armchair downstairs. I set up my home office in the dining room and he asked me to leave the door open into the drawing room. “I like to hear the voices.” “Of course,” I said. I was summoned at regular intervals to do things – find glasses, find tissues, find his wallet. I was also quite busy at work and I had a whole new appreciation of what my brother and sister in Cork have to deal with.

I particularly enjoyed the moment when I was having a meeting and he summoned me. “I told you I was in a meeting, Dad,” I said grumpily. “But I didn’t hear you talking,” said he, utterly unfazed.

At lunch time I went into the market in Cork to buy the wherewithal for my favourite ham sandwich. It felt pretty much like usual, maybe a bit emptier and there was someone regulating the flow of people in and out, and a lot more perspex than previously.

In the late afternoon, I persuaded my father to have a ham sandwich too. “He won’t have dinner now,” said my brother gloomily. I was amazed but my brother turned out to be quite right. My poor father, he has got so thin and frail. This is 95, I suppose. Good ham sandwich though.

That evening the internet went down. I rejoiced because my father was unable to listen to his internet radio. I am sorry but there it is.

Friday, June 19, 2020

I worked away until early afternoon and then took my half day. My morning was interrupted by regular requests from my father next door. My favourite being when I was on to a colleague asking about some work she was doing and he summoned me. I said I’d call her back and went in to him, “Is that someone who works for you?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “Should you not be more formal and firm?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I said. He said, “I heard you ask whether she had holiday plans.” Dear God in heaven. “I thought it was an emergency,” I said grumpily, “you’re like the boy who cried wolf.” “Well,” said my father, “he was right once.” Later, I was on to another colleague and she said, “Anne, sorry but is that ‘The Archers’ playing very loudly in the background?” This working from home lark can be a bit of a strain.

I spent some time talking to my father about family history. The only new piece of information he gave me was that his father had been called, “Copper”. His father died when my father was 10 and he had no idea why he had this nickname. He had just overheard someone point him out as “Copper’s son”. A mystery.

I visited my 90 year old aunt in the afternoon, mask at the ready. She was not keen on the mask. “Are you worried about getting coronavirus?” she asked. “No, I’m worried about giving it to you.” She was unconvinced and persisted in trying to get me to take off my mask. I resisted. I wished her a happy birthday for the following day when she would turn 91. “It’s a great age,” she said happily (she’s in such good nick), “although your father is 95 and he was always delicate as a child.” Just goes to show. “Do you have any idea why your father was nicknamed ‘Copper’?” I asked her. “Yes, he had red hair.” I mean who knew? There’s a mystery resolved for my father after many years.

There were some extra bikes in the shed in Cork, not as healthy as they might be but my sister encouraged me to take them back to Dublin with me for repair and passing on to the boys as as they are far too big for their own bikes.

I said farewell to my elderly relatives really, really glad I had seen them and hopeful that I had not infected them coming as I did from plague infested Leinster. My sister and I went for a short walk and then I hopped into the car to go home.

I was welcomed at home with the kind of enthusiasm I thought was gone for ever. The kind of enthusiasm that small children have for their parents. They all ran into the hall to hug me. Very gratifying. The shed in Dublin is now bike central.

I was home just in time for cinema night, we had been told that we would move to Phase 3 on June 29. I’m getting a bit confused about what phase involves what and when they begin and end but rejoicing etc. and good news that real GAA training begins July 1. We had “I, Tonya” for cinema night and it was very good but something lighthearted would be welcome.

Saturday, June 20, 2020

My sister rang me to tell me that my father fell over soon after I left the house in Cork. He seems to be ok but a bit shaken. I wouldn’t really call it a great omen.

My aunt’s 91st birthday; I got her a subscription to Slightly Foxed. Let us hope that she likes it and remembers that I am the donor.

Daniel and I had zoom GAA. He did his reps, I did the zooming. We are old hands at this stage. Mr. Waffle has done some kind of online training for GAA parents to ensure they understand social distancing for the return to real training.

I got a notification from my Sunday afternoon bookclub that our hostess was considering a real live meeting on July 16. I was filled with delight.

As well as the bikes, I took from Cork my mother’s toasted sandwich maker bought in Brittany about 40 years ago. It has served us faithfully since but they don’t use it much in Cork any more so I asked to bring it to Dublin. Still an excellent piece of kit. Behold the toasted egg sandwich; our own invention.

Herself went out to a friend’s house. The portrait of the children arrived. I still don’t love it. Alas. Oh well. It started to feel like life was really getting back to normal.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

It was actual Father’s Day. The children made cards for their father but actual presents after the previous weekend’s efforts were thin on the ground. He didn’t seem to mind. It was the longest day of the year. The weather was beautiful. We went out to Howth. The traffic was bumper to bumper but we got there eventually. I made them listen to Bagatelle in the car because I am determined to pass on my irremediably uncool musical tastes to my children. We swam in the sea (well, three of us did, Michael and Mr. Waffle resisted) and it was a lovely, lovely afternoon.

Monday, June 22, 2020

Busy day at work again. Herself went to a party that evening for her friend’s 18th. Five people only she assured me but I felt a bit unsure whether this was a good idea although within the rules. I had my Monday night bookclub via zoom and suggested tentatively that our next meeting might be in the flesh but this was vetoed. I felt a bit chastened.

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Yet another trying day at work. Daniel went out to play basketball with a friend which he really enjoyed. It feels like maybe the beginning of the end.

We spent all dinner talking about flags of the world. I am not a flag fan. They children all know a lot about flags. I blame their father.

Mr. Waffle and I looked at holiday homes in Ireland for August. There are none.

Mr. Waffle bought a book from a German academic publisher. They love their titles.

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Yet another immensely trying day in the salt mines. It may be for this reason that I ate them all at lunch time because the dish washer had not been unloaded and reloaded. This is the children’s task and it is pretty much constant.

Daniel had his last Wednesday night zoom training. We rejoice.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

After my grumpiness the previous day, Daniel was up at 9 unloading the dishwasher. I felt a bit guilty but, you know, pleased that the dishwasher was unloaded.

Saintly Mr. Waffle has spent the week wrestling with the children’s online school book purchasing website. He finally got past the impressive obstacles put in his way and next year’s school books have been bought.

Daniel made us all pizza for dinner and we had it in the garden as the weather was fine and it all felt festive and holiday like and after dinner we played cards which was fun too. It was a nice evening towards the end of a tough week.

Friday, June 26, 2020

I talked to my Cork friend in Brussels by video call. A big corona virus dividend the video calling with friends abroad.

The children had their second last zoom call with their French language tutor who has been coming live from Paris twice a week – we promised it would finish end June so next Tuesday is the absolute last day. I think both they and the tutor really welcome this but it has worked pretty well.

Later, I went into town with herself to pick up an elaborate breakfast we had ordered which we planned to serve the following day.

We went to the bread shop to get bread but they were sold out. However, they gave herself a free bun so not a dead loss.

Mr. Waffle made sourdough bread but it was…unsuccessful. One of our lessons of lock down may be that home made sourdough is not for us.

Meanwhile Daniel had a first piano lesson with a neighbour up the road. His uncle who is a very good piano player has a keyboard he can lend him and he can practice on that. He’s quite excited. Please let us not speak of the reasons we do not have a piano.

After the success of the previous evening, I decided we would eat out again and stuck some burgers on the barbecue and dispatched herself and Mr. Waffle to the vegan chipper nearby for some suitable treats. By the time they came back, it was lashing and we had to cart everything back in again. Alas.

All the details of what phase 3 would involve were published, it feels like almost back to normal though not quite.

The Greens agreed to go into government and we finally have a new government after months of negotiations. V excitingly we have a Cork Taoiseach for the first time since 1979. Some mild local colour at the link for Cork enthusiasts.

Herself had a zoom session to hear whether she had won the essay competition but, alas, she had not. Oh well, she gets a goodie bag for being a finalist so there’s that.

After a day of many excitements, we sat down to watch “The Blues Brothers” for cinema night. Cast of thousands. V. successful.

Saturday, 27 June, 2020

I was so grumpy. Inexplicably so. I think perhaps it’s because we’re entering a new phase of what the French call “déconfinement” and I’m not quite sure what comes next.

Herself put together our breakfast and it was excellent.

I went out and picked rubbish with the neighbours for an hour or so. The grabber I got for my birthday (still a weird present choice) proved very useful. It lashed on us. Middle aged delights.

My saintly husband felt I might need to get out, so we cycled into town and then signed up for the new electric bike hire service. We picked up a couple of bikes and whizzed around the city centre delighted with ourselves. Not as good on the uphill as we might have hoped and a bit expensive but pretty good fun all the same. And then we had takeaway tea and a bun outside. Food served and made by someone else. The excitement. Also, some cygnets in Stephen’s Green.

My sister told me that Cork local radio has nothing on but profiles of the new Taoiseach. When I was in Cork, I asked my father if he had ever met the last Cork Taoiseach, Jack Lynch. Apparently once on the train shortly after Jack Lynch became Taoiseach and he walked up and down the train shaking hands with all the passengers.

Sunday, 28 June, 2020

As we get ready to move into phase 3, it really feels like the end of an era. I know colleagues with small children can send them back to childcare on Monday and I think it’s going to make things a lot easier though I expect that there will be a side order of guilt with that.

It was a breezy, blustery day and, aside from a short walk outside, it feels like Mr. Waffle and I spent all day looking for holiday accommodation in Ireland. There is almost none. We have one week in August booked. This does not much of a holiday make, I have to tell you. More searching to follow.

And tomorrow, I’m in to the office in town for the first time since the end of March. It feels so strange. I won’t be going back every day from now on but much more regularly, I imagine.

And next week, my menfolk are finally getting their hair cut.

And there’s a second Cork Taoiseach – here he is having a walk around in his constituency. There are definitely some people in the crowd who are not of his political persuasion but, a Cork Taoiseach is a Cork Taoiseach.

Probably a good moment to end the plague diary for the moment.

Do you feel that it’s over or is this only the calm before the second storm?

Anniversary

15 June, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

Today is the first anniversary of my mother’s death. I am sad that I am not able to mark it in any particular way and that I haven’t seen my father or brother and sister since March.

I have in gestation a long post about my mother but it’s not ready yet – it may never be ready at the rate I’m going.

In the interim, I’m going to give you an anecdote from 1953 which her best friend told me recently. They were in college together and stayed in the same residence, La Retraite. They had both been to (different) boarding schools run by the same order of French nuns. The food in school had been very good and they were both disappointed with the inferior standards prevailing in their college accommodation. They were not alone and the nuns summoned a number of the young women to a meeting to discuss the food. They gave a free and frank criticism of the existing regime. “Well, what you like to have to eat?” asked the mother superior quite reasonably. There was a silence while the assembled women considered their options and then my mother broke it by saying, “Meringues!”

Is it any wonder that I have notions ?

Here she is, a couple of years after meringuegate, just after she’d finished her masters, I think.

Plague Diary – Part X

11 May, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Sunday, May 10, 2020

I had a cold shower again. Just not a delightful start to the day. It was cold and overcast.

We cleaned in accordance with the cleaning rota which is succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. It’s also bringing us together as a family because we all hate it but, like the Leaving Cert, it is tough but fair as we all rotate through all the jobs.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a cycle which was grand though a bit repetitive. And it did not rain on us which was very welcome. Small triumphs.

Monday, May 11, 2020

I started the day with another cold shower. The plumber came at lunch time and fixed the shower. There was great rejoicing.

Delivery of the Irish Times every morning continues to bring joy although the paper is pretty slim. Monday is the sports supplement day and there are still a lot of sports pages which is quite amazing given how little sport is actually continuing. Mr. Waffle wrote a letter to the paper last week and I read it out to him over breakfast without realising it was his (he’s a secretive soul). He got a great kick from saying, “Mmm, but can we trust this random letter writer?” and having me look to see who sent the letter and realise it was him. This is how we amuse ourselves in lock down.

I cycled out to our nearby village with herself which was pretty chilly but probably good for us. It felt a bit worthy.

I had my online book club again, we have even begun, tentatively, speaking about books again. In our new zoom format, I’ve become much more aware of who the quiet ones are and who the talkers are. Lads, I’m a big talker.

I am delighted that we have a) got a new e-reader and b) worked out how to download library books on to it. Mind you, the recommended book club read (“Such a Fun Age”) is only available in August, still something to look forward to for the holidays.

Speaking of holidays, I have resigned myself to the loss of the money paid for flights for five of us to America this summer (out to NY back from LA, let us never speak of it again) and am turning my attention to possible summer holiday locations in Ireland. Our friend who is holed up in West Cork for the duration says that holiday houses for August are going fast. Is this just an opportunity to throw good money after bad? Will we actually be able to go anywhere in August? Should I just look forward to a fortnight at home exploring in the Dublin region? Thoughts?

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

I started the day with a warm shower. That is an awful lot better than a cold shower.

Herself got up early and watched “Normal People” on the telly. Mr. Waffle found her downstairs at 8. She told him she was going to be discussing it in her French conversation class at 9.30. “I understand there’s a lot of sex in it,” said Mr. Waffle bravely. “Yes,” she said, “that’s why I’m watching it at 8 in the morning without my parents.” Fair enough.

Mr. Waffle asked me recently what we would have done differently, if we’d known the pandemic was coming. Probably not an awful lot (with the exception of booking and paying for so much travel). Last year when we got the kitchen done, I would have been a bit more insistent about getting a loan to do the utility room as well (we wanted to turn it into a kids’ games room, place where they could gather, it would have been pretty handy as a home office in current circumstances), however, Mr. Waffle assures me that he would not have agreed to a loan, even had he known about the pandemic, so I suppose that’s not really a lost chance. Mr. Waffle is cautious and dislikes being in debt more than I can say. Lengthy diversion follows to describe how, when he was a student in Paris, he used to walk to the distant suburb where he lived rather than get the RER as he didn’t have enough money and didn’t want to ask his parents for more. I particularly like to hear about the time he walked out from the centre of Paris, in the snow, with a hole in his shoe. You might think based on this story that his parents were unable or unwilling to fund him but, on the contrary, they were generous and quite willing. He is not a man for depending on others when he can manage by himself.

We were going to get a job done on the bathroom this summer and I suppose we could have speeded that up a bit, particularly as we have now had to spend money to fix the old shower but it’s alright really.

What about you? Are there things you would have done differently, had you known that the pandemic was coming? I’m not talking about investing in disinfectant, zoom and face mask shares but more in the domestic and personal sphere.

In going through old files (Mr. Waffle and I are the king and queen of filing) looking for our gas reference number from our former supplier (which I needed for reasons to do with my own idiocy covered in a previous post), I found a folder with insurance documents for the car we brought back from Brussels in 2008. The car went to my sister in, maybe, 2011 and she got rid of it a number of years ago. I suggested that the papers might go but he is reluctant to part with them. The folder has moved under the stairs with a view to subsequently, perhaps, going to the shed and, ultimately, perhaps, whisper it, disposal. I suppose if it goes, I’ll be compelled to review my folder of payslips from the 90s. We’re all on a journey here.

Mr. Waffle and I went for our evening walk in the 5km zone. Not much by way of novelty, I fear.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

Woke up and had absolutely no idea what day of the week it was. I worked it out later. I had a warm shower, again. Very pleasing.

I have been reflecting on the joy of lunch. The five of us have lunch together every day. Dinner is a constant source of disappointment to me. I am a poor cook and my children are picky eaters (perhaps these are related things). But lunch is easy – just a collection of left overs from the fridge arranged nicely and usually everyone eats something (though Michael has been known to hold out, he sometimes also nibbles a little chorizo).

It was absolutely freezing and I apologise to no one for having spent the day with a hot water bottle at my feet.

Mr. Waffle and I went for an evening walk but didn’t really find any fresh fields to conquer. The school contacted us to encourage one of our children to put in a bit more homework than had been received to date. There was some unhappiness but all was forgiven and the child expressed a firm purpose of amendment. It is very tough on them as the expectation level is so unclear. I cannot wait for the summer holidays to start at the end of the month.

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Today was a day filled with meetings which is tricky from home. Not as tricky for me as for one of my colleagues who presented to 40 people with great aplomb on an interesting and complex topic. Doing this online is tough anyhow but when your two year old and your four year old children are with you and are being minded by the TV (as his were, he confided to me later), it is even tougher. He was great but the meeting ran over and he was still fielding questions when an irate child in the background asked about lunch in imperious tones. I thought he handled it really well, saying calmly, “I’ll just mute my mic for a moment.” We wound up shortly afterwards all the same. I mean, just as well really, I wanted my own lunch.

Daniel had to do his home ec practical exam and he made dough balls and bruschetta. We had them for dinner last night and very nice they were too. Herself made risotto for our main course. She makes wonderful risotto. While my children were slaving over a hot stove, I went for a cycle and I ran into a friend in the park. We were both unaccompanied so I hopped off my bike and we went for a socially distant walk and chat which was lovely. Zoom is all very well but it’s no substitute for meeting people.

I like to tell my children stories about my parents and relatives but, I suppose, they may have heard some of them before. A recent practice has sprung up where when people have heard a story before they raise their hands. Michael generally doesn’t to the intense chagrin of the others; mostly because he doesn’t seem to have listened the first 14 times I’ve told the story. I embarked on a story last night and it was greeted by a forest of hands. “She’s concerned about the Library of Alexandria,” explained the Princess. I came across a phrase recently, “Every time an old person dies, the Library of Alexandria burns to the ground.” It really struck me. I think probably because my father is so old and knows so much. I turn to him for information on all historical 20th century events (he was born in 1925 so he has personal experience of most of it) and questions about family and relatives and I am increasingly conscious that he won’t live forever. Until, the Princess made her announcement last night, I hadn’t really thought of myself as being the Library of Alexandria and trying to drum in family stories and facts to the children to ensure they survive after I’m gone but I suppose that is exactly what I’m doing. Anyhow, I looked a bit balefully at the Princess and she added, “Though, in this case, I wouldn’t say the Library of Alexandria is particularly strong on trigonometry.” Oh how we laughed.

Friday, May 15, 2020

We got a bread and croissant delivery for breakfast to celebrate the start of the weekend. Hurrah. The orthodontist texted that he is re-opening mid June. Further rejoicing.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to the sea which is within our 5 km zone. It remains unchanged from when we last inspected it on my birthday (March 10) but it was nice to the see the sea, I have to say.

We had cinema night. It continues satisfactory. Herself chose the film. We had a Will Ferrell offering called “Stranger than Fiction” which wasn’t bad. Great cast and a clever idea. Some problems in execution though. But PG 13 which was a huge relief to everyone.

Saturday, May 16, 2020

It was my niece’s birthday and we skype called her to wish her a happy 12th birthday. She seemed cheerful notwithstanding lock down. She is re-watching all of the “Friends” episodes for the fourth time so she and I had some discussion on this shared cultural endeavour.

I retired some of Michael’s (very small) t-shirts and bought more online. Now that he is basically an adult size, this is not as cheap as it once was. We bought a shirt for Daniel, a shirt for me and a couple of items for herself as well. I have never bought an item of clothing online for myself before and I await with mild interest the outcome of this foray into a brave new world. I have, depressingly, ordered face masks for all of us as well. As I understand it we are encouraged to wear them in shops and on public transport. Something to look forward to.

Mr. Waffle and I went out for a cycle; we thought we might have a walk in the cemetery (all the thrills) but it was locked up.

We took part in an online quiz and we didn’t do too badly considering that due to technical issues we missed all the questions in one round. The wifi continues to be delicate.

I await your pandemic news with bated breath etc.

Plague Diary – Part IX

7 May, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Monday, May 4, 2020

I went for a cycle on my own for an hour. The weather was pleasant and it was nice to be out.

Having deferred cleaning to today, we all dutifully did our cleaning from the rota after lunch. Cleaning the house is tedious, there’s no two ways about it. But effective. Top tip from me, do not use a cleaner with bleach on a stainless steel hob.

Mr. Waffle and I read in the garden for a bit. We’re both re-reading. Some of us have chosen more challenging material than others.

The neighbours gave us half a dozen eggs over the wall. Speaking of hens, I don’t mean to tempt fate here but I think our rat problem may be resolved. Fingers crossed, eh?

My sister has started making candles. Really not sure where this will all end.

Tuesday, May 5, 2020

The children have the day off school as it’s the founder’s day. This is the first time in years herself hasn’t been organising and/or speaking at a schools’ conference. My sister asked why not an online webinar but herself said, wisely, “No one wants that.” Mr. Waffle took the day off work also to tend to the children and take them away from their electronic devices.

I got a call from my brother asking how to dispose of a dead bird. All part of the service. He doesn’t have a cat; I can only assume that he stalked it in the garden and carried it off in his strong jaws.

Mr. Waffle spent 3 (!) hours playing Risk with the boys in the afternoon. He is the best father. Herself and myself went for a cycle to a village at the edge of our 5km zone to celebrate our extended containment zone. Quite pleasant too.

My father was released from hospital again. Somewhat improved. I hope he’s well enough now to stay out for a bit.

Wednesday, May 6, 2020

Back to the grindstone for the children. Online school is slowly killing them. My poor, poor children.

Our google calendar is quite empty. It is very strange. I can’t quite understand how we managed to fit in so much stuff in what I think I should start calling “the before days”. We appear to be in the process of acquiring a milkman. As we get through 16 litres a week, I’m hoping this will be worthwhile.

I cycled out to our nearby village again. Unaccompanied which was fine. I met a friend walking in the park on the way back which was very exciting and we stopped for a good long socially distanced chat.

Herself has set up her own online shop where she is selling her clothes second hand. “I’m selling a lifestyle,” says she. Her experience of capitalism has been exciting. She nearly expired when she found she had to pay €8 for postage. “That’s nothing, imagine if you had to pay staff costs,” I said. “Mmm,” said herself, staunch critic of Amazon’s policy on unions and part of the reason we try not to buy any Amazon stuff, “who needs unions, we’re family, I will look after you.”

Thursday, May 7, 2020

The capitalism experience continued. She sold all her items. She packed them, she added free stuff, she forked out for her online postage and this is not to mention the time cost of extensive photographing the previous day. “If,” she said bitterly, “you had told me that I had to do all this and at the end you would give me €1.70, I would never have done it.” And, I have to tell you, she has no supplier costs. She’s reviewing her pricing policy and is, even as I write, putting up more stuff.

Bewley’s, a very well know Dublin cafe, is closing its Grafton Steet branch. I am experiencing mild regret, they did a great Lapsang. When it nearly went to the wall in the 1980s, the then Taoiseach, Garrett Fitzgerald, suggested that it might be nationalised and I thought my father would be carried off by an apoplexy at the prospect of his taxes going to prop up a Dublin cafe but nothing came of it. Nobody is suggesting nationalising it now but the Irish Times gave it acres of newsprint.

The internet died over lunch and the company said that it was a line fault and could be days before eircom got to us (days!).

I took Daniel off on my cycle to the nearby village. He pronounced it ok. I ran into my friend again and this time we were very blasé and just waved at each other.

Meanwhile, Mr. Waffle turned the kitchen table into a temporary table tennis table with medium success.

Friday, May 8, 2020

The eircom man came first thing. A lovely man and the first person we’ve had in the house in about a month who isn’t a family member. Very exciting. He said that there was nothing wrong with the line and the fault must be the modem. It came back on, on Friday morning anyhow and we have been crossing our fingers ever since.

We had pastries and bread delivered to celebrate that it’s Friday. My sister sent me a notiony candle out of the blue. Quite the thrill, I can tell you.

The neighbourhood whatsapp group is full of details of local pubs delivering pints (there are several).

Michael and I cycled out to our nearby village. An opportunity to test his new shoes which arrived in the post this morning. It is a nice cycle but yet, all other things being equal, I probably wouldn’t advise doing it four times in the one week. On our way home we met the family of a school friend of Michael and Daniel’s from primary school (friend was at home but his parents and younger siblings were out). It’s all the same really for everyone. The father is German so he had a slightly different story to tell about his parents in Germany (fine, thankfully) and what restrictions are like there (significantly eased – his father got his hair cut today).

The German language school where herself was supposed to be going for a fortnight in the summer refunded her fees (I mean refund is good, rejoice). And the three week camp Daniel was supposed to be going on in June is cancelled also and the organisers have promised to refund unless we want to roll it over to next year. We’ll see. Meanwhile, Michael’s refusal to do any kind of course or activity this summer is looking surprisingly prescient.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk around a local housing estate (can you call it that, if it’s Victorian?). I had never noticed before that all of the houses have the same front door. They must be 100 years old but the ones that were gone were few and far between. Robust.

For cinema night we watched “Three Identical Strangers” which was successful in that everyone stayed for the duration and it was interesting but it’s a bit sad. I think pandemic viewing requires more laughs. “Catch Me, If You Can” remains the high point of pandemic viewing season.

Saturday, May 9, 2020

Ah, Europe Day, I thought of the bank holiday I would be enjoying if I worked for one of the European institutions. In fact, May and June in Brussels were something of a bank holiday bonanza. And then there was this delightful habit of taking off (possibly being given off?) a day to make up a long weekend if the secular or religious holiday did not fall on a Friday or a Monday (faire le pont – words to conjure with).

Yesterday, the children were complaining that the shower didn’t work. Did we listen? No. Were we sorry? Yes. I had a cold shower which is deeply unpleasant. The man is going to come to fix it on Monday (is plumbing an emergency service, I suppose so).

Herself and myself went to queue with hipsters in the hope of getting nice bread from a local cafe turned take-away but they were sold out. To console ourselves, we bought frozen vareniki from our local Eastern European produce shop. Mr. Waffle (our domestic vareniki maker – we liked them when we had them in Estonia last year and he has been honing his skills since) was outraged.

I set the children hedge cutting and lawn mowing in the afternoon. They did a great job but we had to stop as we have, again, run out of composting capacity. My lilac is growing and thriving with one very notable problem. It is not producing flowers. How long is this going to continue for?

I made biscuits. We ate them.

I went back on the walk Mr. Waffle and I took yesterday and photographed the doors. I was slightly mortified when one of the doors opened as I was standing on the path snapping it. However, it was a nice German man who was pleased that I was photographing his door. He told me that when they moved in, it was a horrible plastic one but they managed to source one of the original doors, put it in and painted it up. His daughter chose the colour; and very nice it looked too.

Lots of the houses had beautiful peonies. I am hopeful that in the near future I too will have beautiful peonies as, unlike the disappointing lilac, they look like they are about to burst into bloom.

I feel I know my 5km radius in some detail.

And how are things in your own pandemic location?