Cork

Christmas Round Up

2 January, 2022 4 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Christmas Eve, 2021

My sister sent me an advent calendar which she made herself with Christmas pictures from years past which I absolutely loved.

The last picture is a still from a video 10 years ago when the boys and I were walking through Temple Bar. Michael peered at it “Is that you? I can’t believe how young you look compared to now.” Telling it like it is, our Michael.

We drove down to Cork. In a genius move, Daniel had downloaded the “Muppet Christmas Carol” soundtrack which serenaded us part of the way. Herself was testing us on the Myles Na gCopaleen “Catechism of Cliche” where I was doing exceptionally well, I might add. “You know,” I said to her, “he was from Northern Ireland.” Daniel, busy listening to the Muppets said in considerable surprise, “What Kermit?” “Yes,” said Mr. Waffle, “that’s why he’s so green.” We’re hilarious.

The in-laws in London sent us a message that some Christmas pantomime had to be cancelled as Beauty and the Beast both got Covid.

Moving on from the Muppets we had general Christmas carols and played “Il est né le divin enfant” which was previously unknown to me but appears to occupy the space in French culture which “Away in a Manager” does here (mostly for the children’s Christmas nativity play but can be gussied up for more formal occasions). Mr. Waffle said that he had heard it on Lyric FM (yes, we are now Lyric listeners – your point?) earlier and the host said, “From my French, I think that means “he is not the divine infant.” So close. And as herself regularly says to me, slightly sardonically, “context clues.”

We had three hours in the car. It’s a long time. This interaction is not untypical.

Me: Michael, you need a new guitar string, don’t you?

Mr. Waffle: Which string?

Michael (tetchily – he’s the one in the boot): Give me a minute, I’m trying to think.

Herself (briefly removing her earphones): This is exactly what will happen during all Christmas interactions.

Me: I’m sure it’s not.

Her(sticking back in her earphones) : Yes it is. Cassandra out.

Things perked up when we got to Cork. My sister had spent weeks getting my parents’ house ready for our arrival and we all had beds (not a given) and I hadn’t seen it so pleasant and organised since before my mother got sick. And she had dinner ready for us. Delightful.

Over dinner, I mentioned my father calling him Daddy and the children thought I meant their father whom I also call Daddy (I know, I know, I try not to, it’s horrendous). Mr. Waffle pointed out that my family has too few names for too many people. “Look at Dan,” he suggested. “Well, my father is dead and my brother is in Tenerife, so in fact, there are no Dans,” I said tartly. “What am I?” asked my misfortunate son Daniel who was sitting beside me. Alas.

We walked up to midnight mass at 9 in the evening. It rained on us and the church was surpisingly empty. The priest galloped through it (he skipped the second reading which I didn’t approve of but I quite liked if you see what I mean) and even with a choir (which was a lovely surprise given Covid restrictions) we were out by 9.45 for our damp walk home.

Christmas Day, 2021

We were all up reasonably early but not as early as Daniel who woke at 3 in the morning and in his excitement couldn’t get back to sleep and spent the night watching Spiderman films. Good presents all round and my sister cooked an incredible Christmas dinner for all of us and for my aunt who came in from next door.

Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I went to visit my parents’ grave – the graveyard was full of people, who knew this was a thing? I probably wouldn’t have gone myself, if it hadn’t been my father’s anniversary.

Overall, a great success and the visit to the graveyard wasn’t even too bad – it’s an interesting graveyard – mock all you like.

St. Stephen’s Day, 2021

I had booked those who were willing (Michael and herself) in to the outdoor skating circuit in Fota. It was a bit of a pain finding the entrance (don’t ask) but actually great fun when we got there. The skating circuit was small (and I have no idea how they kept it frozen) but outdoors which was lovely. And while I wouldn’t call any of us star skaters (even though herself had been to Somerset House when she was in London – less glam than Cork, I’m sure but still good practice) we appeared better at it than the majority of people. There was a very slight downhill slope which meant that for half the circuit little effort was involved. At the very last minute, as we were getting off the ice, I fell over. The injury to my dignity was severe but otherwise no lasting harm done.

Herself sent the following message to the family group chat:

Have lost £100 in an unmarked envelope (save your laughter) so please look carefully before you recycle/burn anything!

The money was a present from her aunt and my sister and I found it by going through the large green bin outside. I feel my unmerited reputation for throwing out everything was, alas, reinforced by this episode. Yeah, it was me, of course, it was me, if you leave an unmarked envelope on the floor, I will throw it out. On the plus side sorting of rubbish for environmental reasons made this a more pleasant task than it would have been in times past.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went to Kinsale to visit a friend of his who was back from London. We would have taken the children for a walk as well but it was lashing so they were spared. She renovated her house extensively and it is, I must say, extremely swish.

When we got back to Cork, Mr. Waffle asked where the Irish Times was as he had succeeded in completing the prize crossword. Back to the recycling bin. Look, if you don’t want a three day old newspaper thrown out, you have to say something. I fear my reputation may be consolidated though.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Herself and myself went for breakfast in the Crawford together. “I’m trying a look, don’t say anything,” she said slightly dauntingly before we went out. I did not say anything.

We had a look at the Rembrandt exhibition. It was grand but I am not a big Rembrandt fan, still interesting to have seen it.

Mr. Waffle and the children went back to Dublin, filling the car to the brim with loot. I stayed an extra night to meet a school friend who had come back from America for Christmas with her husband and four children.

My friend described her departure from America in such hair-raising terms (antigen test places closed due to Covid cases in the staff) that I have zero desire to do anything like this. However, she reckons that we could have Covid for ten years (she’s a doctor but a cardiologist, I really, really hope she’s wrong) and we had better start doing things. I don’t know. Contexts seem to be different in different countries.

It was interesting, the Princess was saying that in England, no one ever talks about NZ and it’s all about Sweden. We are all about NZ and their extremely successful strategies for dealing with Covid but I haven’t heard too much coverage of Sweden, a bit I mean but it isn’t the first country Irish media outlets seem to look at.

I finally (two years after my mother’s death) cleaned my stuff out of my childhood bedroom, something she had been asking me to do since 1993. To be fair there wasn’t much left – some college and school essays, old papers, a few pieces of jewellery. My sister was suitably impressed by my ability to chuck things but I think I had probably brought to Dublin years ago anything of value to me.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

I went in to the market to get a poke bowl to bring to herself in Dublin because I am a saint. The wretched Cork bike stands weren’t working in two places so this delayed me. However, I must give credit to the people in TFI who I emailed in some irritation and who replied instantly to say call us and we can re-start the screen for you. Very gratifying. Nevertheless, I was slightly late for my sister who had promised to give me a lift back to Dublin. In my defence, my sister has become punctual and that put me off.

It was nice to be home all the same. Poor next door had had Christmas cancelled as their first born despite being double vaccinated had got Covid again. They had been going to host Christmas dinner so had to dole out supplies to relations from behind closed doors. The parents and younger child had been scheduled to go skiing and were antigen testing every day. They did get off but it’s all a bit stressful.

Thursday, December 30, 2021

A friend from work and his four children came to visit. I was able to deploy my Christmas ware and also the fruits of my Christmas hampers. I was delighted with myself. He said that my kitchen reminded him of Mr. Tumnus’s and I was thrilled as I suddenly realised that this was the look I had been going for all along.

New Year’s Eve, 2021

Our Irish Times did not come but there was the neighbours’ copy on their doorstep. Later, Mr. Waffle realised that the neighbours don’t get the IT during the week and they had obviously got our copy. When he went to retrieve it, it was gone. Who were we to begrudge the poor self-isolating one a paper?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast and when we came back, we began to dole out tasks to the children. Daniel said, “I knew when I heard you come in – clompity stromp (his own invention but I like it) – that it would be empty the dishwasher, put away clothes.” I am afraid it was. I am predictable that way.

We went off for a post-Christmas visit to the cousins. Very pleasant. “Had we any plans for this evening?” they asked. I looked blank, I had completely forgotten it was new year’s eve.

Herself had to bail a bit early as she was going to the theatre with a friend (Faith Healer – it was grand).

Everything closed at 8 so she was back by half past. We all went to bed but were awoken at midnight by the quite spectacular illegal firework display nearby. We had some champagne and wished the neighbours a happy new year including the Covid one who was waving from her front door at her friends standing by the gate.

It was fine, you know, but herself said to me that all her friends in England had put up on instragram, fireworks and meetings with friends and Dublin is just dead. “There’ll be other new years,” I said encouragingly. “Not when I am 18 and new year just isn’t the same when you’re 52.” I am afraid that is unanswerable. Although when I was cleaning out my room I found a third of a pound note which I had split with two friends on new year’s eve 1989 saying that we would meet again in 1999 and put it together. Reader, we did not. But I was reminded of that very dull evening in the rugby club in 1989 when we had been reduced to tearing up a pound note for a mild thrill. I suppose what I’m saying is that not all new year festivities are what they might be.

New Year’s Day, 2022

Mr. Waffle and I went for a lovely walk. Lovely walk was lovely. We avoided the traffic chaos on the way by taking our bikes. So my walk was accompanied by a side order of smug glow.

Sunday, 2 January, 2022

Fresh from the successful walk the previous day, I announced to the children that we were going to Howth for a walk. Herself said that she planned to dedicate her day to college work but the boys and Mr. Waffle, God love them, were resigned to their fate.

When I was in mass my phone rang which has never happened to me before. It was a friend. I did not answer or check the text messages she sent but spent all mass thinking that someone we both know must have died because what else could it be to require an actual phone call.

Anyhow, when I got out it was to find that she was suggesting a walk at 2.30 in the park with a third friend. I was delighted. The menfolk graciously agreed to defer their walk.

When I got home there was a message from my brother-in-law – whom we had met on Friday – that he had just got a positive antigen test (they were going out to meet friends and he had one to be on the safe side). Herself pulled out the stash of free, yes, free tests that she had brought home from England and I twirled away (v unpleasant it was too). Negative. I told my friends, they said come on the walk anyway. I did. I mean all three of us are triple vaccinated and we were meeting outside.

And it was brilliant. There is nothing like meeting people in person. I came home full of energy and enthusiasm and tackled the old receipts and guarantees box. In no way do I have form for throwing out necessary things.

My brother is home from Tenerife and he called to find out why both recycling bins in Cork are full. What can I say, I’m good at recycling.

I hope that your own Christmas was happy and Covid free.

The Final Lap

24 December, 2021 4 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess, Siblings

It’s all go. I mean not as much all go as it was for my colleague who had an emergency stent fitted the other day, but pretty busy. I have to say we all got a shock when this older but apparently fit and very popular man nearly died on us in the run up to Christmas. Hurrah for modern medicine. He’s safely home and planning a quiet Christmas.

I got into the Huguenot graveyard in the centre of town during the week. It is almost always closed but a man was painting the gate and he let me slip in illicitly. There was a big plaque to Jacques de la Fontaine. I went and looked him up and thanks to the internet, I found a whole book he had written about his life. He had bad times in Cork, unintentionally hilariously described. It was strange to think of this man whose grave I pass daily having a life in Ireland a good 400 years ago. It’s all intimations of mortality around here at the moment. And also, I seem to have put out my lower back. Does this augur well for the ice skating session I have booked for us on St. Stephen’s Day? I think not.

The return of my first born continues to be a source of delight. She had three friends from primary school around for dinner on Monday. These girls who I have known since they were tiny tots of 4 have turned into beautiful, charming grown up Amazons (all very tall, I must say, something in the water?).

I was chatting to her the other night and asked whether she read the blog. A bit. “You’re funnier on the blog than in real life,” she offered. “I know what you’re thinking, you’re going to put that on the blog. Listen here, I’m more than a content farm.” Meta paragraph right here for you, all the literary tricks are being deployed.

I was amused to hear Mr Waffle talking to Michael the other morning in the kitchen before school. As I was standing in the hall I heard him ask in slightly surprised tones, “Are you following the election in Chile, Michael?” He is, apparently. This slightly nerdish streak in my children means that the Christmas receipt of school reports is generally an occasion for rejoicing and so it was on this occasion. Teachers love children with views on the Chilean elections, it appears.

We’re in Cork for Christmas. It’s quite the logistical challenge, my sister was in Dublin during the week and she brought down our Christmas presents. Like a saint she’s cooking Christmas dinner for us as well. And she took the boys off on Wednesday afternoon to her partner’s parents’ place where they spent a happy afternoon playing magic (don’t ask) with her partner and being fed by his parents. I rejoice as did they.

It was the winter solstice on Tuesday. That makes me think of my father. He was a summer person, always loved the sun and always celebrated the turning of the year with delight and a glass of whiskey. I used to ring him to wish him a happy solstice. It was this time last year that I saw him for the last time. He died on Christmas day. We’re off to Cork today and we’ll celebrate Christmas in my parents’ house tomorrow. I feel a bit sad about it. A little bit strange.

Where ever you are, I hope that your Christmas is happy and that the logistics do not defeat you. See you in January.

Dealing with Uncertainty

12 November, 2021
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Siblings

Lads, still no sign of my Covid test result. I was supposed to be getting on the Cork train at 3 this afternoon to go for a birthday dinner with my sister. I’ve pushed out the booking to 5 and am checking my phone at 2 second intervals to see are the results in. It’s going really well for me. I mean, even if I have it, knowing would be better than the uncertainty.

Anyway, I feel a bit better than I did yesterday so that’s something. Hold on to your hats and prepare for exciting updates.

Just Another Day for You and Me in Paradise*

19 September, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, September 13, 2021

So I booked myself a Covid test online even though I am double vaccinated. I was unnerved by my colleague (also double vaccinated) and his wife (ditto) getting sick. In fairness, to the HSE, it’s really easy to do. I’ve had to give far more data booking a restaurant.

Parents’ council is back. I tried very hard to step down from my role as treasurer at this meeting but failed.

Tuesday, September 14, 2021

I had my Covid test. The whole thing was stupendously efficient. I was in and out in 5 minutes. “Have you had one before?” asked the man with the cotton bud on a long stick. “No,” I said. “You’ve done well,” he said. I was slightly dreading it but after 18 months of constantly swabbing, they seem to have really refined the technique. It was a little ticklish but very fast and not painful.

Wednesday, September 15, 2021

We had salmon for dinner and I rescued my hollandaise from the freezer. It thawed beautifully. I was delighted with myself. I thought it might be nice if it was a bit warmer and plunged my plastic bowl of hollandaise into a pot boiling water because I am an idiot. Of course, it instantly split but I shoved in an ice cube and started beating frantically and it came back together. I felt like a cordon bleu genius. It was a bit cool mind when we put it on the fish but I’m definitely still counting this as a win.

Also my Covid test came back negative and I felt like a bit foolish for going at all. But still, nice to be reassured.

I drove herself out to a party. We passed a neighbour’s house dense in foliage. “Their creeper is out of control,” I said. “It’s more like a stalker at this point,” said herself. She’s hilarious. How will I manage when she is off in godless England? She pointed out that Ireland is pretty godless as well at this stage. Not the point.

Thursday, September 16, 2021

I have to say that work continues to be demanding. I am exhausted from it. I arrived home to a surprise from Mr. Waffle who had been in a bookshop and picked me up two books as a present in view of my general exhaustion. God, I was thrilled. Is there anything better than an unexpected present?

Friday, September 17, 2021

It was lashing. I regretted my choice of an outdoor play for our evening’s entertainment. It was culture night and we booked ourselves into Milano’s for a festive start to the evening. Daniel hurt his shoulder so instead of cycling in as we would normally do, we took the car. There must be some kind of mathematical relationship between how smug a cyclist you are and how awful things will be when you drive, because it took us 40 traffic choked minutes to get into town and find parking. Herself who was travelling under her own steam took 10 minutes to cycle in.

On the plus side, the weather cleared up. We could only book in pods of four for the play. I offered not to go but that was unnecessary as there was an unseemly clamour among the children to be the one who would not go to the play. Herself won.

It was in the grounds of Dublin Castle. The Castle was busy for culture night and, as always, it was nice to be herded off into a blocked off area where something exciting was happening.

There were picnic tables for each pod to sit at and it worked quite well. We had to keep our masks on for the duration which seemed a bit excessive as we were outdoors. I was very relieved that there were seats though as I had been worried we might have to stand. The setting was lovely.

Someone started waving from a table behind us. It was the woman who did French language conversation with the children (alas, she is leaving us this year). Then someone called my name from the table directly behind us – it was some friends from book club. We did more in person socialising before the start of the performance than we have done in 18 months. Thrilled.

The play itself was fine. It was a musical, heavy on folk music. Michael actively liked it and, as ever, indifferent to the views of others, leapt up at the end and gave a standing ovation. Michael loves a standing ovation. It was good to be out. I am going to chalk it up as one of my successes.

On our way back to the car, we passed by Christchurch. I said to the boys, “What church is that?” “We know, we know,” said Michael, “Christchurch where they keep Fintan O’Toole’s heart.” Look, close enough.

Saturday, September 18, 2021

Herself has gone to Cork to say farewell to the Cork relatives before emigrating. My sister bought her new boots in Cork. I cannot speak about the outrageous expense of this. Knee high boots from Carl Scarpa bought at full price in September. What an excellent aunt.

I made more apple jelly and stuck the posters I got at the Fringe festival on my jam jars. I mean, what else am I to do with them? I now have trendy preserves. I have to confess that it’s a bit unlikely my jar of plum jam actually could be an art space but I am spreading the message.

I stuck up posters around the place looking for a new person to do French conversation with the boys. I felt very old, sticking up posters rather than going online. We will see what comes of it.

I, very cravenly, resigned from the parents’ council treasurer role by texting the group chat. I think I have achieved escape velocity.

Sunday, September 19, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to Chapelizod, then we went and looked at the art in the Irish Museum of Modern Art. I’m not sure I am able for it. It’s been open 30 years and they had a poster on the wall showing all their exhibitions from 1991. The only one I can remember is this one. The little man bangs his head on the bell at one point and it made a very memorable ding. Of the rest, alas, absolutely no memory remains.

I quite liked some slightly weird portraits by an artist called Alice Maher but doubtless I will forget all about them like everything else I have ever seen there.

We went for a restorative cup of tea afterwards.

Meanwhile herself went to Dungarvan with her uncle where they were due to cycle 70kms. I await hearing about developments. Last update was at 4.30 when her uncle said, “Finally stopped for lunch after two punctures and numerous setbacks. Turns out herself isn’t that keen on 4.30 lunch either Anne [I refer you to my last lunch date with my brother], must run in the family, that plus being continually exhorted to admire the views of the UNESCO geothermal copper coast has resulted in the a less than happy [girl] but she has been stoic.”

Not sure how much of their 70kms they achieved but at least she’s fed.

And that’s it for another exciting week.

At this point I am still trying to put off the work I brought home and did not do all weekend. I also have to do the parents’ council accounts before the AGM tomorrow night when (be still my beating heart) I will step down from the role. Oh Sunday night delights.

*Will Phil Collins ever become fashionable do you think? Will the young people some day love him unironically like they do Dolly Parton?

Updated to add: they did 68kms of their 70. Not bad!

The South – A Trip Down Memory Lane: Holidays Week 3

10 September, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, August 16, 2021

We drove south towards Cork. We stopped off for food at lunch time in Ennis. Ennis is lovely and very lively. It benefits from being a commuter town from Limerick – you could see there was money spent in the town – and also has a good local community so doesn’t feel anything like a dormitory town. I have friends from nearby and got excellent lunch recommendations. I inadvertently skipped the queue for tables and although we apologised profusely, everyone in Ennis hates us and we may never be able to go back. I went into a local book shop and came out bearing proudly a jigsaw with a picture of Kinsale (where we were to stay for the next week). I was slightly dashed when Daniel pointed out, accurately, that it was full of sea and sky, the jigsaw makers’ kryptonite.

We drove on to Kinsale, travelling down from Limerick along the road I am extremely familiar with having spent my childhood driving up and down it with my mother: to visit my Nana, my cousins, and my mother’s butcher in Bruree ( he used to slaughter his own animals and she would buy half a cow, a sheep or a pig, bagged up and frozen, throw it in the boot and take it back to the chest freezer in Cork, it was a largely successful arrangement but sometimes his labelling was eccentric and she would thaw stewing beef only to find it was actually steak).

Covid has meant that my children are more familiar with their own country than I ever was at their age. We worked out that they have been through 30 of the 32 counties and have stayed in 16. They weren’t very interested I fear. Nor did they find my exposition on the Barrymores (inspired by passing their ancestral home in Buttevant – the Barrymores themselves were inspiration my mother always said for “The Rakes of Mallow” – though I see Wikipedia does not agree – I also told the children that Steeplechasing was invented by the young rakes in this part of the world – so many things to share!) any more fascinating. As we passed Murphy’s brewery on our way into Cork city I said, “That’s where your great-great grandfather worked and your great great uncle.” Were they interested? They were not, I fear.

We finally arrived in Kinsale where the (v expensive – though Kinsale was always expensive even when there was no money in Ireland) Airbnb was, happily, a lot more attractive than it looked online. And I didn’t feel quite so ripped off when I realised it was a family home and the family were living on their boat over the summer while we moved into their home. It reminded me vaguely of my father talking about when he was a child going on holidays to Fountainstown and staying in a house while the owner decamped to the hay shed for the summer.

The house was nice, central, with parking (always a challenge in Kinsale) and a good back garden well set up for sunshine and rain. It also had a hot tub (as my brother said, “what, did they win the lottery?”). There were a lot of affirmations stuck up everywhere. I think I would find it a bit tiring to live full time in a house that was quite so keen to tell me to live my best life.

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

Herself and myself got up with the lark and drove into Cork. We had breakfast in the Crawford gallery and then had a wander around the gallery.

We went to the Market and bought lunch ingredients and marzipan fruit. I took her into Saint Peter and Paul’s for her to admire, as we were passing. Pugin, she didn’t think much of it. My father always hated a gothic revival church and Pugin, in particular, which is unfortunate as Ireland is stacked with them. Catholic emancipation coincided with the gothic revival and the results are as you might imagine.

We spent a tricky 15 minutes trying to find where we parked in the multi-storey car park which brought our relationship to its knees following a successful morning but all was well in the end.

Herself had wanted to hire a bike and go cycling along the coast in Sligo but I was a bit nervous. Although she is 18 and cycles all over the city centre in Dublin, I always worry most about those quiet, narrow, rural roads where cars are bombing along and a cyclist is an unexpected obstacle. The compromise was that she could go out for a cycle with her uncle while they were in Cork. We dropped round and picked up a spare bike from him ( does everyone who owns one bike kind of acquire others without noticing?).

We visited my 92 year old aunt who was pleased to see us. We stopped off at my parents’ grave on the way back to Kinsale. She can find her way to it no bother which is more than I can say in relation to my grandparents’ graves.

When we got back we went for a swim in Garrettstown which was nice but chilly. It gave us a chance to fully appreciate the hot tub afterwards.

Herself and my brother went for a 30km round trip evening cycle out to the Old Head which they both seemed to really enjoy. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

My brother stayed for dinner and tested to hot tub after which he pronounced satisfactory.

There was some talk over dinner about Leaving Cert results. My brother showed us a press photo, circulated by a friend of his, of some of his school friends getting their results 30 years ago. They looked delighted if slightly oddly dressed (bat wing jumpers forever). My brother said that he had been standing beside them looking at his results as well and he was a bit disappointed (as he said himself, alright but the lower end of expectations). The photographer from the Examiner caught his eye and suggested by a wave of the arm that he move out of shot. Media manipulation, eh? Only now can it be told, the real story of LC results day.

Wednesday August 18, 2021

Like a fool I had booked myself and Mr. Waffle in for food foraging at the crack of dawn. I was up at 7.30 on holidays. The horror. The food foraging itself was quite interesting actually; I learnt a lot about seaweed. I will never again look at the foreshore in quite the same way. We had a picnic afterwards and I thought it was to be from the food we had foraged but, happily, it was not or largely not, some seaweed bread our host had baked earlier, that kind of thing.

Herself went off cycling again. On her own. I was a bit nervous but she lived to tell the tale.

My oldest friend and her husband came to visit us. She has a house in Ballydehob which is not exactly handy for Kinsale (Cork is a big county) but she was in the vicinity to check on her mother’s house. I can’t tell you how lovely it was to see her for the first time in I don’t know how long. I surprised myself by almost crying when she came in the door. You don’t really realise how much you have missed what has been taken away by Covid until you get it back, I find.

Thursday, August 19,2021

I dropped herself up to the train in Cork. We were a bit tight for time. We’d walked into Kinsale before she left to get her a sandwich for the train and, perhaps, we lingered too much. Anyhow we made it. I must say though, as we drove along MacCurtain street (the last leg of the journey), I couldn’t help saying to herself that it reminded me of all the 100s of times I had been in the exact same position with my mother, driving to the station with moments to spare. She was strangely uncomforted by this. But look, she made it. I’m not sure it could have been much tighter. When I said to her, “Aren’t you glad though that you spent that extra time in lovely Kinsale rather than sitting in the boring old station?” she just said, “No.” It looks like she is her father’s daughter. Him and his odd punctual ways.

We went sailing with the boys in Oysterhaven in the afternoon. My oldest friend (mentioned above) lived in Oysterhaven as a child and when I was young, I used to go to her house a fair bit. Given the epic distance from the city, I often stayed over. But I’d say I hadn’t been to Oysterhaven in at least 30 years. As we rounded the bends in the country roads, each corner was familiar. It was so strange.

I suppose around Kinsale and further west is the landscape of my childhood. All of these places are inextricably associated with my parents. I can’t help thinking of them when I go to places I have been with them. Particularly places we went regularly when I was young. Probably, the last time I was in Oysterhaven was with my parents (it wasn’t really somewhere you get under your own steam). It made me feel quite sad to be there again after such a long time.

As we passed my friend’s old house, I said to Mr. Waffle and the boys, “And they and the neighbours lugged down concrete to the rocks and you could swim from there, it was very exciting. The beach was a bit far away.” As we rounded the next corner and were on the beach, I was slightly mystified. I mean, it might be a long way if you had small children I suppose, but it can’t have been more than a 10 minute walk from the house. I had forgotten. I texted my friend to ask why they had bothered with the concrete place and she said: 1. It was nearer; 2. It was a swimming hole which was exciting; and 3. The beach was often covered in tar from the Betelguese disaster. I have to say until she said it, I had completely forgotten how much tar on the beach was a feature of the west Cork of my childhood. You were always trying not to get it on the soles of your feet, on your towels, on your clothes. You were constantly on the look out for it and, excitingly, on the odd rare hot days, it kind of melted. It was as much part of the landscape of my childhood beach days as the windbreak and the sandy sandwich. Thinking about it as an adult, I am appalled but it never bothered me as a child.

The sailing was grand. Like everything in Ireland this summer, it seemed to be largely staffed by teenagers (is this a “the policemen are getting younger” phenomenon?). When asked about our sailing experience, I said that I had capsized my boss more than once on an away day in the Lake District 15 years ago and gone on a Glenan’s sailing course for a week in college. The young woman smiled and said that her friend’s mother had done that back in the day. Feeling a bit elderly, I have to say. The lovely young woman who came out with us was the same age as my first born and, she was chatting away to the boys like a peer which, I suppose, she was.

Meanwhile back in Dublin, herself was having a fantastic time for herself. I thought she might be nervous in the house on her own but she definitely was not. One of her friend’s was house sitting and pet minding for the director of Dublin zoo so she spent the evening at a dinner party in the zoo which was excellent apparently.

Friday August 20, 2021

It was lashing, my God, positively biblical quantities of water.

No rain in Dublin and herself got her second vaccine dose and remained dry as well.

Mr. Waffle went around to visit a friend from London who has a house in Kinsale. The boys and I hung around the house and then headed up to Cork.

I made them go to the Crawford as well.

But we did also go to a game shop where they got more Magic cards (if you don’t know, you’re better off).

We visited my aunt who was touchingly delighted to see them. Then I deposited them with my sister’s partner to play Magic for the evening and my sister, my brother and I went out for dinner which was very nice. We lost track of time and I was a bit worried about the boys and my sister’s partner as we didn’t get back to her house until 12. I needn’t have worried, they were all still locked in mortal combat and I had to give them 15 minutes to finish off the game.

Saturday, August 21, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out for a delicious breakfast leaving the boys asleep in bed.

The weather was beautiful (biblical rainfall had moved to Dublin where my poor daughter got soaked on her bike) and we went to Kinsale beach in the afternoon which is not the most beautiful beach in this neck of the woods but is very handy and close to the town. There was a wedding party getting photos on the beach and it was lovely to see the return to normality.

We all swam – it wasn’t too cold. Then the boys and I walked up to James Fort which was lovely. It was just a delightful day.

We decided to go to the Bulman for dinner but our luck ran out. They were taking walk-ins only which is always a bad sign. When we arrived, the waitress told us that there was no way they could fit us in. Alas. Back to the supermarket. Sigh.

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went into town and I picked up a print of the Bulman though it was not a moment when I was feeling particularly kindly towards that establishment. I’ve hung it in the downstairs bathroom – compromise.

My brother joined us for lunch bringing with him a mini-fridge stocked with ingredients (yes, really). After lunch, he, Daniel and Mr. Waffle settled down to watch the match while Michael and I went for a stroll around the town. Cork were playing Limerick in the All-Ireland hurling final. As I left the house, 15 minutes in, I heard my brother say, “It’s not over yet.” I wouldn’t exactly regard that as a good sign. As Michael and I walked around the town, the pubs were heaving but not a sound came out other than the noise of the TV commentary. I regret to inform you that Cork were annihilated. My Limerick cousins will be unbearable.

Unclear how those thinking of purchasing from Lisney estate agents in Limerick would feel about the above (the all-Ireland hurling champions bring home the Liam McCarthy cup).

As it was the last night of the holidays, we had dinner out which was grand; after our experience at the Bulman, we went somewhere that took bookings.

And we finished the jigsaw.

Monday, August 23, 2021

We packed up and came home to Dublin. The roads are so good now that we flew up. We stopped off for lunch at Junction 14 (Ireland’s finest motorway stop) and were home before 3. Herself was out and about but made dinner for us that evening which was excellent. I picked up the various packages and books were waiting for us at the post office and the library. The Irish Times despite being cancelled was delivered every day we were away. And that is the end.

I did have a good time and it was lovely to be off for so long. However, I am looking forward to holidaying abroad next year. If nothing else it will be much cheaper.

How were your own summer holidays?

End of Term at Last

7 August, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Work

Monday, July 26, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I are both facing into slightly grisly weeks at work on the basis that we are going on holidays on Friday never to return. Alas, that is not true but I am off for 3 and a bit weeks and Mr. Waffle is off until September. Rejoice. Just the week of doom to get through first.

The plumber arrives with his son to do up the bathroom. This was originally scheduled for last October but Covid did not permit. The plumber is keen as mustard. He arrives at 7.30 and says that he will be finished by Friday. He proceeds to cut off the water for the day. Herself is not delighted but at least the boys are safely in Cork.

Indoor dining can resume for the lucky vaccinated.

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Herself enjoys another day at home with the plumber and his son and no water.

When we returned home that evening she told us that she had overheard the plumber on the phone with a client: “Look,” said he, “I’ve tried to explain to you and I’ve explained to your husband; to put it in terms you can understand, your heating system is fucked.” On seeing my precious firstborn, he said, “Sorry, I forgot you were there.” Indeed.

I had my first indoor dining experience with my Covid cert at lunch time. It was grand. Worked fine.

Daniel and Michael returned to the fold. They were not delighted by the upstairs bathroom situation but who would be? They had an excellent time in Cork with absolutely beautiful weather.

Wednesday, July 28, 2021 – Anniversary

This was our 20th wedding anniversary. “What is it for 20th?” Mr. Waffle asked. “Porcelain,” I said sapiently. Yes, indeed, the plumbers were still in situ. Plumber père announced to us at 7.30 in the morning that they would not be finishing until the following week. Unsurprising but unwelcome intelligence. Mr. Waffle and myself went down the road for an early restorative breakfast to recover.

Meanwhile, as you will recall, it is jam season. There is a bumper crop of plums from the tree this year and I constantly have some kind of jam process on the go. Daniel and herself helped me stone plums on separate nights. “It’s like that Seamus Heaney poem,” I said. Michael, however, remained unwilling to assist even when I made him read out the poem aloud. Alas.

I didn’t get home from work until 9, sadly, and no sooner was I in the door than poor Mr. Waffle was called to a work emergency. We’ve had better anniversaries. We can celebrate on holidays.

I rounded off the evening by driving out to a distant suburb to pick up herself from a friend’s house.

Thursday, July 29, 2021

The plumbers have installed a temporary shower in the utility room (it’s bad but not quite as bad as it sounds). The space is tiny, like a shower on the ferry. Better than nothing.

Herself had some friends around to the back garden. I sent them all home with a jar of jam.

Mr. Waffle and Daniel went to the Aviva: more live sports, where will it all end. The home team triumphed against, I want to say, a team from Luxembourg?

As we contemplated the ongoing works in the house, herself asked, “When we are looking after the house, do you think we are working with it or against it?” I said I thought not, remembering my father who always said, “Entropy is against you.” Perhaps it was just a low moment.

The plumbers said they would not be coming the following day but the tilers were coming on Saturday. As the plumber said, “They don’t have great English but they’re good tilers.” “Where are they from?” we asked. “Romania maybe,” he offered.

Friday, July 30, 2021

A plumber free day. And my last day in the office before 3 and a bit weeks of holidays. Rejoice. I got a work call in the afternoon (when I was off) which was not a great sign but never mind. I took herself off to get her first vaccination. Rejoice, rejoice.

Saturday, July 31, 2021

We had a very normal morning in pre-Covid terms. Herself joined her parents for breakfast out. Mr. Waffle and I cycled into town to pick up a light fitting for the bathroom. He went home then and I went on to see the Martin Parr exhibition in Temple Bar which is excellent. So good that I bought the exhibition book even though it has an introduction by Fintan O’Toole (Ireland’s foremost public intellectual) whom I find very trying. I took in the National Library photography exhibition as well. I went to the Temple Bar market and bought some bread for lunch. I went to the shops and bought more jam jars (planned) and a dress (more spontaneous). It was the most normal morning I have had in ages and I am so grateful to the vaccine for giving us our lives back.

It was a longer morning than usual though as the tilers arrived at 7.30 and I was keen enough to get out from under their feet. They’re from Transylvania actually, thanks for asking.

Mr. Waffle discovered as he was going about the monthly neighbourhood clean up that our misfortunate next door neighbours have got Covid. Only their 18 year old was not fully vaccinated but they all got positive tests and are dutifully self-isolating at home. It was particularly grim as they were supposed to be in Schull on their holidays this week.

I had been notified that a book I wanted had arrived at the library. Myself and Dan cycled up at speed, anxious to get there before it closed at 4. We had, however, forgotten that on bank holiday weekends, the library is closed on Saturday. I love my library and it provides an amazing service but this drives me crazy and it catches me every time.

I took the boys up the road for a haircut. As we were crossing the road, I met the waitress from the cafe at the top of the road whose daughter is in the boys’ school. She said how big the boys were and that she hadn’t seen us in ages. I pointed out that the cafe was closed and wondered were they re-opening now. Apparently not, after seeing the 96 pages of regulations, the owner has decided that they will remain closed to indoor dining for now. Understandable – particularly when they have a well-established bakery. It seems pretty difficult for cafes and restaurants – I do feel for them.

Sunday, August 1, 2021

At mass, the leaflet said that one of the saints whose feast occurs this week was Saint Eusebuis of Vercelli. It was such an odd name that I looked him up. Quite dull but his wikipedia entry refers to St. Lucifer of Cagliari. I kid you not. He’s worth a look even on the basis that wikipedia feels no need to comment on his unusual name.

I went into the Hugh Lane gallery on my own in the afternoon (my family having declined this offered treat) and had a sustaining tea and a bun in Bewley’s afterwards. How much am I enjoying having my life back? Very much indeed, thank you.