It all passed off very peacefully. The children dressed up.
They received extraordinary quantities of stuff.
Top prize goes to the couple across the road who noticed that our children hadn’t turned up at their door [they only had the stamina for one and a half sides of the street] and turned up at our door on Sunday with a bag of goodies for each of them.
I collected the boys from school today. As I shepherded my precious children along on their bikes, I was conscious that I was more than usually precarious on my own. Features for my added comfort included:
A basket which was very wobbly [I tried to get it fixed on Saturday but local bike shop had only one basket in stock and he didn’t recommend it – why, we ask ourselves] and liable to tip out its contents [in this case, one loose set of keys, one handbag, one long cylinder of wrapping paper and one bicycle lock] on the slightest provocation; and
Two heavy children’s schoolbags tied, reasonably securely, to the back carrier.
As I was turning right into heavy traffic my bike stopped moving. As the traffic was more or less at a standstill this wasn’t as awkward as it might have been and, happily, I didn’t fall over. I lifted up my, heavy, steed and moved to the side of the road. A strap from one of the school bags had got caught in the chain. As the bike is one which has a back pedal brake, extracting it was quite difficult and lengthy and made me and the strap absolutely filthy.
Once extracted, we then went home like the wind. I had undertaken to Herself that I would collect her from school at 3.35 in the car but warned that we might be a little late. This was before I realised that the boys’ extra-curricular courses started today [tin whistle and art, respectively, so far so good, tin whistle supplied, mercifully] and that they wouldn’t be out of school until 3.30 rather than 2.30 as usual. And then they took ages to emerge and I did not speed our passage home with my bicycle related difficulties.
I had no way of communicating with my first born other than by email [though as she informed me, a trifle coldly, I thought, I could have phoned the school] and although I sent her a mail saying that I would be late she only got it after 4 at which point she had been waiting for a while. I finally turned up at 4.15 the picture of guilt. How well I remember my mother doing the same thing to me. Alas.
Then this evening is filled with a different flavour of guilt (procrastinator’s guilt – are you familiar with this?) as I am avoiding packing for a trip to Cork with the family at the weekend for my sister’s birthday and for a work trip on Thursday and Friday. The plan is that my loving family will collect me at the station on Friday evening and we will drive to Cork. The logistics of packing for both events simultaneously is too much, so I have put it off until tomorrow which I know to be a mistake. Don’t mock the afflicted. Also, I have requirements for the children’s clothing for their aunt’s [significant] birthday party. I think everyone will need more information than, “Pack something nice to wear” or I will be sadly disappointed. And, of course, I have nothing to wear myself.
Still it could be worse, poor Mr. Waffle is at the AGM of the Residents’ Committee. He went off this evening looking very glum.
This is the kind of exciting news that posting every day brings. For completeness, have a picture of my sons disappearing into the fog on their bicycles this morning.
We were in Cork at the weekend.
Herself cycled into town with her aunt using a Cork bike. She was very taken by the segregated cycle lanes. She is still alive.
Following my encounter with the people from Colorado, I was determined to take in Blarney Castle next time we went to Cork. While it wasn’t worth driving up from Killarney twice to see, I think, on balance, it was worth the 15 minute drive from my parents’ house.
It was lashing but we wore our rain gear like proper tourists. The castle is like loads of other square fortified castles in Ireland without a roof.
I have to say that they do a fantastic job with the rather limited material available to them. I have visited the castle before but not in years. I retained a vivid memory of the actual stone kissing being rather hair raising. My memory was not at fault. Daniel and Herself refused point blank to kiss it. Michael was the bravest but so speedy that I failed to immortalise the moment on camera. However, Daniel was to hand to record my latest kissing of the stone.
See that gap at the top of the castle in the battlements? That’s where the stone is. Hair raising indeed, I can tell you.
There was some old graffiti. The standard of graffiti seems to have gone downhill over the years, frankly.
After our castle adventure, we went for a nice cup of tea. The cafe was in the stable yard. In the main room there was a delightful roaring fire but no space. We found ourselves shunted to another room where the stables had been turned into rather drafty booths for tables and chairs with, for added authenticity, manger and trough still in situ. Not entirely successful in my view.
There was lots more to see including a cleverly designed poison garden (the gardens in general, however, were not at their best what with it being October) and a small playground. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. We might even go back for another visit.
Updated to add: look at these delightful pictures of Blarney castle that I saw in the Crawford Gallery.
Last night the Princess and I went to the suffragette film. She is on mid-term break so she had spent some time preparing for the evening. She made buns with pink icing on which were piped the initials of prominent suffragettes:
Then when you cut them in half, they were purple white and green on the inside. These were, I now know, the colours of the suffragette movement.
The buns were something of a highlight. The film itself was quite dull. And felt like it went on forever. Alas. Not as bad as Lafcadio Hearn though, so that was something.
The Princess and I went to a reading last night based on the life and work of Lafcadio Hearn. It was not a success. Notwithstanding the potential for real interest, I regret to report that the performance and script were dull. The audience was not large and most of them slumbered throughout the performance.
It’s not all fun and games supporting the arts, you know.
Herself likes to spread salt on her rice cakes (don’t judge). One day she brought some sea salt into school in a bit of cling film. One of her best friends asked her, “Why are you putting crystal meth on your rice cakes?”