Our three apple trees have had a productive year. Again. I am exhausted from my jelly making efforts and out of jars but still the apples come.
Apple Jelly
Ireland
The Hedge Hating Peasantry
We had two men cutting back in our garden all day yesterday. They did a bit of a radical job but it can grow back over the next 12 months. I regret my lilac which they cut within an inch of its life last year. It grew back but, understandably, didn’t produce any flowers. “Next year,” thought I to myself. Alas, I didn’t single it out for protection and it has, yet again, been scalped.
Youngest child, who daily grows more like my father (who gave us the title of this post – it was what he always said gloomily when hedge clipping was imminent), says that it is awful when the garden is shorn but without the intervention of these men, I honestly think we might be fully overwhelmed.
Here’s the before.
And here’s the after. It actually doesn’t look that different in the photo but you will have to take my word for it that this is a radical change.
Under Egged
I went out for lunch during the week to a trendy cafe. I was alone – just me and the previous day’s paper. I ordered the Turkish eggs with curried cauliflower (see, trendy). It came and I started eating while reading the paper. There seemed to be a lot of cauliflower. I summoned the waiter. “Um, my Turkish eggs have no eggs.” “REALLY?” he yelped. He inspected. They have a new chef apparently. That is all.
Northern Adventure
You’re doubtless on the edge of your seat waiting to hear about our Nordic odyssey but first let me tell you about our Northern Ireland trip in May. “Exciting!” you shout.
Friday, May 1
You may recall that some time ago we tried to climb in the Mournes but were defeated due to problems with Mr. Waffle’s coat. A difficult time. We vowed to return and this time we stayed the night before in Carlingford which is nearby and would allow for an early start on Saturday.
We stayed in Ghan house in Carlingford which is lovely but the last time we stayed there was during the pandemic (also lovely then) and we were assigned the same room so it reminded us a bit of that difficult time. But we had a nice lunch, a nice walk and a nice dinner, so what’s not to like?
Saturday, May 2
We spent hours going up Slieve Binnian. It was very foggy as we panted up and as we passed fitter walkers coming down they said gloomily that the normally excellent view from the top was invisible. Was I downhearted? Honestly, a bit. However, we felt our way to the Mourne wall – a key landmark – here it is looking foggy and, well, wallish.
Despite some incentive to turn back we followed the directions and instructions and clambered to the top where we were met with a less than stellar view.
However, as we sat there recovering from our exertions, the clouds miraculously cleared.
And it was, honestly, totally worth the effort; really recommended.
We came back by a different route as I always enjoy a loop but it was a bit dull and quite long so if I were doing it again, I’d probably come back down the way I went up. Although the return did have its own quiet charms.
By the time we got back to the car, we were keen for a restorative cup of tea and a snack so we went to the Percy French restaurant which is at the entrance to the luxury Slieve Donard hotel and, I can only hope, unrelated to it. It was quite vile and an insult to poor old Percy who gave us the song “The Mountains of Mourne“. However, it met our needs, in a very basic and uninspiring way and gave us the strength to push on to lovely Newforge House in Moira where we were booked in for the night.
At drinks before dinner we met the other guests. There was a Cork woman who had married a local who assured me she could drive from there to her mother’s house in Cork in 3 and a half hours (highly dangerous, I would have thought) and two newly engaged (to each other not in employment) doctors who had been to college in Cork. They told us all about their time working in Australia and their return to Dublin. Overall more Cork content than you usually get in Armagh. We got our room upgraded and we got an amazing dinner. Delight all round and the memories of the Percy French restaurant in Newcastle faded.
Sunday, May 3
After a superb breakfast, we went to mass locally. On that day there was an Ulster senior football match. Armagh were playing Down (supporters’ cry which never fails to amuse “Up Down!”) in Clones (Co. Mongahan, a neutral venue, I guess). It had been referred to at dinner the night before and I wasn’t sure that the Polish priest was going to be weighing in at mass but that’s where I was wrong. “I’m not going to pray for Co. Down today,” he said to his Co. Armagh audience, “because they don’t need it.” Daring. He was wrong too, they did need it. Armagh won by miles. Despite being visitors, Mr. Waffle and I were nabbed to bring up the gifts; I was very tense as I can never remember when anything happens in the service and I’m always afraid I’ll miss my cue. Mr. Waffle was on top of it, however, and all went off peacefully. Mass went on forever though.
The youngest child was still in Liège at that stage. He had been in Dublin for the week and had to get himself to the airport without parents to drop him off. We offered to pay for a taxi but he is very frugal and insisted on getting the bus. Everything went wrong: the bus stop moved; the bus didn’t come; there was a delay on the road. But look, even though he had to sprint, he got there in the end. I felt a bit bad but he survived and it doubtless made him stronger.
We took in Hillsborough Castle on the way home. It’s an odd spot. It’s run by the historic royal palaces organisation and they haven’t at all, even slightly, adapted for local mores. I found the tat in the shop (and I love an upmarket souvenir shop) very divorced from the context in which it sat. But it is an interesting building with lovely grounds so overall I would recommend but I would say, in all the years I have been visiting Northern Ireland, I have never been in a more British spot (and I have mostly been on the Antrim coast).
Then it was back to Dublin. Stay tuned for further adventures.
More Power to her Elbow
I wouldn’t be a big fan of boxing as a sport but even I was aware that Katie Taylor, Irish boxing champion was having her final bout in Croke Park last night. The papers were full of it. By all accounts, as well as being a great boxer she is a very inspiring and worthy person. She did some kind of warm up session in Dublin City University (extensively covered) and did her weigh in in Trinity College (ditto). The French embassy cultural newsletter to which I am a subscriber told me about her French opponent. The neighbourhood whatsapp group gave a blow by blow account of her prowess last night (she won). The fight was on in every pub in the city. But I have to say, most surprising of all was mass this morning where we prayed for her to have a good retirement during the prayers of the faithful. Everyone’s jumping on her bandwagon.
Queen of Cafés
I met middle child and Mr. Waffle for lunch today in a café where I have been going for many, many years. I used to work near there and go there a fair bit but I work in a different part of town now and go much less frequently. Middle child had never been there – as Mr. Waffle said, they have anti-student prices – but enjoyed it. Both of my lunching partners were surprised to see one of the waitresses surge out from behind the counter and embrace me saying, “We haven’t seen you in ages.” I was a little surprised myself but gratified. “I have been here 19 years today and I remember you coming in when I started working here,” she said. When it came to time to leave she whispered to me, “Open your bag; we made extra scones today and I will give four to you”.
I remember once years ago at a slightly low point they gave me free cake. I tell you, loyalty has its privileges.