Cork

Stuff

18 November, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland, Siblings

You will recall that I am unwilling to let my parents’ large enough collection of Cork Historical and Archaeological annual journals go to a secondhand bookshop. I am equally unwilling to give them house room here. My sister emailed me yesterday to say that the society are willing to take the journals back. They will even collect them. They have even thanked her for donating them. A thrill.

Meanwhile, in other news, I have spent the afternoon taking apart an old fence which has been awaiting my attention in the shed for some time. I escaped almost entirely unscathed although – in quite a dramatic development – a large and rusty nail attempted to pierce me in the neck as I tried to bend back the boards. Also good, on balance.

I met a friend with sciatica this morning and we had a cup of tea and then limped around the block – me with my knee and her with her hip. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? This is not the vision of being in my 50s that Hollywood has led me to expect.

Aaargh

16 November, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Siblings

My brother decided to go to Tenerife for Christmas last year. On balance, I decided that on the first Christmas since our father died, it would not be great to leave my sister to celebrate Christmas alone with our elderly aunt (aunt is not really transportable so her Christmas has to be in Cork). We went to Cork en masse. It was pretty successful from our point of view but I would concede that it was a bit of a squash and a squeeze and, of course, my poor sister had loads of work to do as hostess.

Last year, my brother suggested putting my aunt in respite and having my sister come to Dublin. At the time, I thought it was an appalling and callous suggestion but, I have to say, now I am slightly more amenable. My brother is going away for Christmas again (Annecy, thanks for asking) and my sister has said, firmly but politely, that she’d prefer us to come to Cork after Christmas rather than for Christmas and that she doesn’t want my aunt to go into respite. I wanted to see her face to face for this to make sure that she meant it. I saw her last week, she meant it. We’re going to go down on the 27th.

Meanwhile my sister-in-law in Dublin had asked what our plans were and kindly offered to host us for Christmas day. At the time, I said that I was unsure but that we would probably be in Cork. I met my sister-in-law for lunch today and as agenda item 1, I was keen to share our Christmas news. Imagine my horror when she led with the news that, after some initial reluctance to go away for Christmas, she had taken up her brother’s invitation to spend the day in Wexford with him and his family. We both gasped on receipt of each other’s news, but sure here we are. We have agreed that we will go to their house for a family get together on St. Stephen’s Day which will be nice but not the same.

My other sister-in-law and her little family are staying in London which I totally understand.

So, in summary, I will be cooking Christmas dinner for just the five of us (possibly for the first time ever?). A change is as good as a rest, I guess.

Going Through my Camera Roll

15 November, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Siblings

I am desperate here. I am looking through my photos for inspiration but, nothing really occurs. Join me in my exploration.

Mr. Waffle and I went to Howth for a walk at the weekend. Mr. Waffle objects to the industrial chimneys in the distance (Dublin’s incinerator and the Poolbeg towers which have something of a cult following locally and really divide opinion), but I find them kind of useful for getting my bearings. Feel free to weigh in on this thrilling topic.

What a nice photo he took of me but, why didn’t he tell me to tuck in my shirt. I suppose like my mother when I was a teenager, he thought, “Is that the fashion?” This was taken before I tripped and broke my fall by sticking my hand into a gorse bush. I looked a lot less pleased with myself then.

What is the relationship between Dublin football club Bohemians and Berlin? Bohs are definitely poor but I’m not sure about sexy.

When I was in Cork last week, my sister gave me a box of old curling photos which she found in the attic. Anyone for an over-exposed photo of my father in Stonehenge in a simpler time from a mass tourism perspective?

How about myself and my brother? Funnily enough, I made exactly the same face when I collected him from Dublin airport at 1 in the morning the other day. I knew from the moment he was born that he would be trouble and I was not wrong.

It’s funny, the picture is black and white but I remember vividly the red of that dress. No effort of memory is required for the rug which remained in use in my parents’ house until my father died. It was was in quite good nick too. They really built stuff to last then, didn’t they?

Maybe tomorrow something will happen. Hang in there.

So soon?

10 November, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

Lads, it’s only November 10 and I am out of content. I was in Cork for a couple of days for my sister’s birthday and it was lovely but unnewsworthy. I must say though, travelling to Cork on the train on a sunny Tuesday morning is an unbeatable way to see the country. It was delightful.

I tested two breakfast spots in my efforts to find a replacement for the much lamented Crawford Gallery cafe. The Good Day deli wasn’t bad but the Farm Gate was disappointing and drafty. The search continues.

I saw this sign in the market which shows real enterprise.

Meanwhile, the Simon Community advertising shows that it understands the Cork mentality pretty well.

Relationship Status: Itâ€™s Complicated

19 September, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Youngest Child

Mr. Waffle and I were on a lovely walk (well lovely in parts, parts were a bit inhospitable, but the views were generally nice and the weather was fantastic) in Carlingford the week before last when my phone started pinging.

It was my Sunday afternoon book club speculating about the health of the Queen of England. They weren’t wrong, we arrived home in time to see the BBC read out news of her death. I was startled by how shaken I felt up there on the mountain. I mean, she was 96, it was hardly a complete surprise.

I suppose she reminds me a bit of my father who was of the same generation, just a year older; the old order changeth and all that. I remember my father telling me about the death of the old King – George V – in 1936 when my father was 10. There are few enough people now who remember that. I am surprised that, 100 years after independence, the death of a British monarch still has so much relevance here including for me

The Irish papers were full of the symbolic importance of her trip to Ireland in 2011. The children were in primary school at the time and the school closed down for the day as it was a bit close to the Queen’s visit to town. People were pretty nervous, I remember (presumably not as nervous as she was). It all went off peacefully though. She went to Cork (“Rebel County” snorted Mr. Waffle as gangs of school children waved flags to greet her on the Grand Parade). The fishmonger in the Market made a career from his brief encounter with her much to my brother’s ongoing chagrin. He feels that the fishmonger may have gone overboard on the marketing. He got a book out of the two minute encounter which was featured all over again in the Irish coverage of her death.

On the Sunday after she died, I was surprised when the priest prayed for her at mass. “We pray now for Queen Elizabeth II and that she will be forgiven her sins, and received into the Kingdom of Heaven,” intoned the priest. “That’s what we do when people die, we pray for them and for God to forgive them their sins,” he informed the slightly startled congregation.

This Sunday, I noticed on the missalette under the list of mass intentions (a list of people for whom parishioners have paid for masses to be said – don’t talk to me about the Reformation – for special intentions, anniversaries, exams, dead family members, whatever you’re having yourself) that on Monday, 19 September, somebody was having a mass said for Queen Elizabeth II (RD). RD stands for recently deceased. Like we didn’t know. There she was sandwiched in between Bennie and Maisie (anniversary) and Pat and Mary (deceased) and sitting underneath the information that it was the feast day of Saint Januarius, Bishop and Martyr.

The second reading from St. Paul (something of a pragmatist) to Timothy was timely:

My advice is that, first of all, there should be prayers offered for everyone – petitions, intercessions, and thanksgiving – and especially for kings and others in authority so that we may be able to live religious and reverent lives in peace and quiet. To do this is right, and will please God our saviour: he wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth.

It really feels like the end of an era.

Updated to add: this appeared in today’s Irish Times. My brother is going to get a hernia.

My Public Needs Me

27 July, 2022
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

My thanks to both of the people (only one of whom is related to me) who asked about blog updates. Here we are, lots of news.

Sunday July 3 and Monday July 4

I took myself down to Cork to see my friend who was home from America with her four children. She had them entered for the Munster junior open and we spent a happy couple of hours on the porch of the tennis club watching them whack balls back and forth over the net with varying levels of success. A ticker tape ran through my head: “This is so much better than working”. I wonder when this will fade. My friend’s mother came down and sat with us for a while. It took me back about 40 years. Her parents have been really well but they are both entering into their 80s now and things are, alas, starting to go wrong and I’m not entirely sure how long they’ll be able to keep up a big house in Cork and another one in Singapore. I do feel for my friend, because it’s hard to be so far away when things start to go awry.

Separately she has four children to put through college in the US. She tells me it will cost â‚¬70,000 per child per year. It makes the English fees we are paying seem very modest (though they are well in excess of Irish college fees of about â‚¬3,000 a year). One of her children wants to study medicine and that goes on forever. They might send her to college in Ireland as even international student fees in Ireland are far cheaper than American fees. It’s an absolute nightmare. She explained something to me which I hadn’t previously understood. In America, it’s not really about what you study at undergraduate level but where you go. The natural Irish question “what do you want to study in college?” isn’t really so relevant for them.

In more positive news, we celebrated my aunt’s 93rd birthday while I was in Cork and Daniel finally tested negative for Covid on Sunday.

Tuesday, July 5

I spent the day at work clearing out my office, sending a couple of final emails and having meetings with colleagues. At the end of the day, I really felt finally finished with work.

Wednesday, July 6

Herself and myself went shopping. She turned herself into my personal shopper and it was amazing. Would 100% do again. Very entertaining and a great haul of clothes for me.

Thursday, July 7 – The wonderful everyday

I said to the children, “Is there anything you three would like to do? I mean all of you?” It turns out that there is. We went to Ikea for lunch.

Friday, July 8

I investigated the new local market. There was a Greek man selling olive oil. “Are you based in Carlow?” I asked. He was surprised but said that yes, he was based in Carlow. It’s just that my sister buys olive oil in bulk from a Greek man in Carlow and how many Greek olive oil sellers can there be in Ireland?

Herself decamped to Cork to grace her relatives there with her presence. An exciting weekend followed involving a visit to a spa, dinner out (twice!) shopping and a long cycle in West Cork. She pronounced herself very pleased.

Saturday, July 9

Mr. Waffle and I went to a local cafe for breakfast where one of Daniel’s GAA team mates turned up as a waiter. Apparently they schedule his shifts around his GAA commitments (peak employment, folks). We told Daniel when we got home. “Did you speak to him?” he asked in tones of horror. Yes, we did speak to the boy we have known since he was 4 who was also our waiter. Sorry about that.

I went with Daniel to test the cycle route to the course he is attending for three weeks. Michael and I cycled to the Casino Marino to check out the Piranesi exhibition, which was a little disappointing but the Casino is always nice. Lads, I was exhausted though. I cycled for miles.

Sunday, July 10

I had my lovely Sunday afternoon book club. We read a book set in Northern Ireland. One of our number is from the North and the kindest, gentlest woman you could imagine. The book was set in the 90s and I was trying to explain how I felt that the North, where the author grew up in the 90s, was more like the South in the 70s and 80s when I was growing up. I said, clumsily, “I feel that the North is about 10 years behind the South.” Don’t say that to someone from the North, even someone very kind and gentle. In an unaccustomedly tart tone she said, “That’s funny because in the North we always felt we were 10 years ahead of the South.” Cross-border dialogue at its best there.

Monday, July 11

Daniel started his course and pronounced himself pleased. Just as well as it is three weeks long.

Tuesday, July 12

Daniel came off his bike and was a bit shook up. He hurt hands, elbows and hip. He cycled home after the fall but he was really keen to go back to his course so I dropped him there in the car.

I dropped herself to the airport three hours before her flight to avoid airport chaos and she was at the gate in 20 minutes. It was ever thus. Needless to say, her flight was delayed.

I then took myself off to Clontarf where I met my friend, went for a really glorious swim and then lunch. Definitely living the dream here.

Wednesday, July 13

Daniel was much better. We rebandaged his various cuts and bruises and I ferried him to the course in the car. I must say it is super convenient to be able to do these slightly unexpected things – like driving an injured child – without trying to manage work as well.

I had a nice relaxing lunch with my sister-in-law across the city and we caught up on family news including that her son has bleached his hair blond. It’s the year for 16 year old boys in the family to do weird things to their hair.

Daniel met a friend of his cousin’s on his course. Because Ireland is tiny.

Mr. Waffle and I went to see David Sedaris live in the National Concert Hall which was pretty good; he does a great job reading his work. I was very impressed by how witty and spontaneous he was in the Q&A at the end. There were four questions and they were all asked by women. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before in a mixed group.

Thursday, July 14

Michael and I went to Castletown House. Largely unsatisfactory as I have been there a couple of times before and, although I was happy to go again, I wasn’t desperate to do so, and Michael found it a bit dull. On the plus side, it’s not far. Definite highlight was playing the Marseillaise in the car for the day that was in it. Very rousing.

We picked up a new bike for Michael from the bike shop where, we found out the hard way, they now work a four day week. I am in favour in theory but in practice was faintly irate when I turned up on Tuesday and found it shut. It’s run by a French woman and, as Mr. Waffle pointed out, this is what you get when your bike shop is run by a French socialist. I had a chat with them in the shop and they said that it was a way to attract staff (full employment again). Apparently when they went from 6 days to 5 there was almost no change in takings. Not sure whether it will be the same for 5 to 4 but good for them, I hope it works.

Friday, July 15

Myself and Michael went to Avondale, home of Charles Stewart and Parnell and site of a new treetop walk. The expedition was a bit more successful than our trip to Castletown but the treetop walk is a little tame. Sadly, Avondale House itself, where I was keen to gain free entry with my newly acquired heritage card, was closed.

Michael says he can’t wait for the July 2022 pages of the family photo album which will just feature him.

Saturday, July 16

It was toasty though nothing like as toasty as it was about to become. Mr. Waffle and I went out for a nice dinner together; my brother got us a voucher for my birthday in March and I was pretty pleased with it.

Meanwhile, my sister in Cork has decided to clear out my Aunt’s shed of the junk of ages. I’m not sure what prompted anyone to keep this printer but I think it’s time has now definitively passed.

Sunday, July 17

It was very hot. Limerick won the hurling all-Ireland. No one was as hot as the aide de camp in full military regalia with gloves who was in the crowd with the President or the Taoiseach or whatever bigwig was giving out the cup. He was pictured in the crowd photo with the cup winners on the front page of the Irish times. The poor man looked like a tomato.

Monday, July 18

Oh God so hot. 30 degrees. Michael and I cycled in to Dublin castle to see the other half of that Piranesi exhibition which – joy – was fully air-conditioned. I thought we might die on the cycle though.

I went out to my friend who has a large house by the sea for book club and sitting in her beautiful green garden with cooling sea breezes was definitely a highlight of the day for all of us. Though she somewhat raised the bar on the food stakes (rule is always frozen pizza) by making her own pizza in a pizza oven in the garden. I hope that people will have forgotten this by the time they are tucking in to Goodfella’s pizzas in my house in October when I am scheduled to host.

Stay tuned for further thrilling updates.