Siblings

Plague Diary – Part VI

19 April, 2020 Leave a Comment
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Hodge, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Easter Sunday, April 12, 2020

Today was the Princess’s 17th birthday and, it’s fair to say, it’s not quite how she imagined spending the day.

That said, it was a present rich birthday and she got lots of cards and messages on social media from her friends. I loved the birthday cards she got in the post from friends who had clearly never addressed an envelope in their lives. We’re all learning.

As I may have mentioned, we are taking part in an extended family bake off competition. We decided to have the bake off cakes ready for a birthday tea for herself in the afternoon. The day was spent baking. We were exhausted by the time the birthday tea came around. It felt like Christmas day. But, frankly, we did an amazing job.

Herself organised an egg hunt for the boys. It was eggcellent. Ah, go on. Their aunt had posted Easter eggs from Cork which showed real forethought.

We had a very mild walk. The Princess brought with her the disposable camera she had requested for her birthday. She’s keen to take pictures that Apple won’t see first.

A birthday post on herself is in gestation. Hold on to your hats.

Monday, April 13, 2020

We were exhausted after the previous day’s baking and didn’t get up to much.

Everyone set about and did his or her bit on the cleaning rota the success of which has been surprising and very pleasing indeed.

We broke our mop and Mr. Waffle attempted to repair it but a good hour of drilling and cursing noises did not ultimately lead to success. Will we be able to get a new mop in lock down? These are the kind of pressing questions we considered today.

The other family members are a bit worried we may have slightly over achieved on the family bake off. Was the promotional video too much? Herself said anxiously, “Are we the baddies?” I feel not, just keen, very keen.

I finally achieved nirvana by being double booked for zoom calls (bookclub and family bake off both at 8.30) which my brother managed to do far earlier in the pandemic process. Yes, I am competitive in all sorts of weird and unusual ways. Your point?

Herself told me about her friend whose parents are divorced. The friend’s father is a doctor and her mother is abroad. So he is at work all the time and the friend is at home alone and even when he gets home they are social distancing. All her social media posts are asking people to stay home so that she can get her family back. How miserable is that? It did make me count our blessings all over again.

Michael and I went for a lovely cycle in the park. Even he didn’t hate it which is as good as I’m going to get.

Judging took place in the family bake-off. It was tense but, ultimately, the judges (one per household) decided that everyone was a winner. Admire our promotional video prepared by herself.

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

At 8 in the morning, herself and myself cycled off to the bakery and picked up our online order. It was within our 2km radius but still a bit of a trot, so I felt filled with virtue (and also croissant) when I sat down to my desk at 9.

Work was busy but better. It turns out that I am a creature of habit. This comes as a genuine surprise to me and certainly, were they aware of it, would also to people who have interviewed me over the years (“I thrive on change and a dynamic environment*”). I’ve found that as I’ve got used to the new reality and working from home, I’m getting a bit better at creating routines and managing. Here is my working day:

9 At the desk checking what fresh horrors are in my email.
10 Almost always some class of ghastly conference call
11 Little break, cup of tea, dragging the boys from their beds, exciting domestic task like unloading the dishwasher
11.30 Slave some more in the salt mines
1 Lunch (if prepared by Mr. Waffle, 1.30, if prepared by me)
1.45 Walk alone around the block (v. exciting)
2.15 Almost, invariably, another conference call. Hideous.
3.15 Further unbroken saltmining.
5 Determination by me that today, yes today, I will finish early and play tennis with Daniel, cycle with herself, force Michael out of the door etc.
5.01 Exceptionally urgent email arrives forcing me to postpone my plans.
6.30 Finish work for the day. Realise that exceptionally urgent matter could really have waited for the morning.

Actually, today, I had a grand old chat with a female colleague. She is the only other practising catholic I know at work (I mean there are obviously lots of others but short of asking it’s hard to find out) and we confided to each other that we both missed Holy Week celebrations. I never thought that the day would come.

The rat catcher came this afternoon to break up the day. We have given up faith in Rentokil who never came back after their initial visit and the man from around the corner with the Jack Russell is now our operative of choice. He put rat poison outside as he said that we didn’t want rats dying in the house. Frankly, I don’t see what’s to preclude them coming in post-poisoning, if they have a means of entry which I really hope they don’t. The good news, said the rat catcher is that we don’t have tongue in groove flooring so it will be easier to take up, if necessary. It’s hard to see this as really good news. Everyone in the household was reminded of this National Geographic article which herself told us about a number of years ago and which is…memorable. Pray for me.

Hilarious email from SuperValu offering us a priority delivery slot on Wednesday week. We have a scheduled delivery for Thursday week which we ordered three long weeks ago (only date available at the time). Email is like something from a secret society:

Unfortunately, we can’t guarantee you’ll get a slot as they’re available on a first come, first served basis, but this gives you the best chance of securing a slot. That means it’s crucial that you do not share this information with anyone else.

The power has clearly gone to their heads.

Meanwhile the boys went up to the local public tennis courts for a knock around but they were locked. Alas.

*I promise I have never actually uttered those ghastly words but that was often the gist of my responses.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

I failed to get up before work for any kind of exercise and I regret this. The working day unfolded in its normal way.

Small walk at lunchtime. Not much to report.

Our sourdough starter arrived and this inspired the Princess to, yet again, beg us to watch the life changing documentary on fermentation she watched a number of years ago. As the proud owner of a sourdough starter, I felt it was time. The documentary “Cooked” was on Netflix. “It’s only an hour,” said she. It started. “Oh yes,” she said, “it starts with fire.” We watched a lot about fire. It wasn’t uninteresting but we had been promised fermentation. “When does the fermentation start?” I asked. “I feel like we’ve watched an hour already and it’s only been fire.” It turns out we had watched an hour and it’s a four part series. Fermentation tomorrow then. The excitement.

Herself had an article published in an online magazine. I am not allowed to read or see it.

In case you care, you can buy a mop in Tesco. Mr. Waffle is refusing to throw out the old mop. I’m a bit unclear about what his plans for it are.

Thursday, April 16, 2020

The Princess and I went for a cycle in the park before breakfast. It was delightful but hard to get up.

Work is becoming more normal and manageable, partly thanks to my exciting daily schedule. Sadly, though, due to an extra conference call, no walk at lunch time. Alas.

We are all living for the excitement that is our fermenting sourdough starter. We’ve already given some away to the neighbours (it keeps growing).

The boys set up and ran an online dungeons and dragons type thing with their friends. They’re learning lots of new skills.

We watched the fermentation documentary. Who knew chocolate was fermented?

Friday, April 17, 2020

I was on a half day and finished work at 3. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t a classic half day which, ideally, starts at lunch time.

Herself is delving into the deeper, obscure depths of cooking. We had an egg yolk sitting in the fridge surrounded by salt and sugar for the week. Today it was hung up to be air-dried for three days. Then you can grate it over pasta and other foods and it will give a lovely umami flavour. Allegedly.

It’s very odd and currently hard as a bar of soap. I’ll let you know about the umami.

Herself has also taken to lurking on sourdough forums on the internet. Our starter seems happy and maybe this weekend we will make bread with it. All to play for.

We got a sushi making kit and she is currently exploring the joy of vegetarian sushi.

Daniel and I went for a bike ride in the park which, despite his protests, I think he quite enjoyed. Both he and Michael are becoming ludicrously large for their bikes and I see an expensive time ahead as we will have to buy them both proper adult bikes post-pandemic.

Saturday, 18 April, 2020

We got a ridiculously expensive breakfast box delivered. I feel we need to keep our spirits up by having little treats for ourselves. It was plugged in last weekend’s Irish Times. Herself and myself were looking forward to it all week. It was not great. The pastry was stale, the juice was watery and the baguette was fine but you know, only ok. Still, we quite enjoyed looking forward to it all week so we might try for another treat next weekend. I will keep you posted.

In other online purchases, we bought our sourdough starter from these guys: kefirgrains.ie. It is the business and we are delighted with our investment.

I subscribe to an online publication called the Browser. It’s an internet highlights thing and I like it. I have two three month subscriptions to give away, if you’re interested, send me your email and I will sign you up.

I got sent a chain mail thing on the internet. Normally I never send these on but it was sent to me by someone I’m quite fond of and I quite liked the idea of getting poems to my inbox. I sent it on to 20(!) people with some qualms and a cover note advising recipients to ignore, if they could not face it. I felt a bit bad. Herself opined that I was overthinking it. Perhaps. However, did it soothe my guilty conscience to see this article by an Irish Times journalist indicating that she had got the exact same chain email and did it make her feel good, gentle reader? It did not.

It is apple blossom season.

Herself has cut her own hair.

I am in the process of sending mortuary cards to people who sympathised when my mother died and came to the funeral and removal. Given that she died last June, this is not before time. It’s a more difficult exercise than you might imagine as you need to dig out addresses and think what to say and so on. I remember a couple of years ago, after my uncle died, my aunt was quite sick in hospital. I went to visit her and all she could talk about was how the mortuary cards for my uncle hadn’t been sent out. I told her not to be daft that nobody would mind, if they were never sent. I don’t think it was much comfort and now I know how she felt: this task has been positively looming over me for months.

Mr. Waffle, the boys and I went for a cycle in the park. We’re all a bit bored of cycling in the park at this stage. But, good for us, I daresay.

We had a quiz over zoom for people living on the road. It was technologically successful with 9 households taking part. Daniel stayed to help his parents but the other two weren’t interested. Their loss, as we defeated the opposition to become the first reigning champions. First prize is organising next Saturday night’s quiz. Oh well. We’ll be offering sourdough starter as a prize.

I was talking to my sister and I said that the first thing I am going to do when quarantine is lifted is go down to Cork. “I don’t know when I’ve been away for so long,” I said. “But you were here last month,” she said. I was really surprised, but so it is. Time is stretchy in quarantine.

Finally, we’ve decided on our treat – we are getting a projector and screen. We hope to be in a position to inaugurate next weekend, deliveries permitting. Fingers crossed.

How’s quarantine with you?

Plague Diary – Part IV

5 April, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Work

Monday, March 30, 2020

We are definitively all working from home, you need a letter to come in and only three people in our division are deemed indispensable and happily I am not one of them.

My sister managed to spring my father from hospital. I was so relieved and delighted. He’s not very well but at least he is out of Corona virus central. Quarantining is complex. My brother, who lives with my parents, is in one part of the house and he is in self-isolation after his return from France. My sister is moving home to look after my father and go into isolation with him for a fortnight after his exposure to the virus (March 19). They will be in another part of the house and disinfectant wipes will be a big part of everyone’s lives.

After work, on Monday evening we went and played basketball on a local court en famille but Daniel is so much better than the rest of us that it is only fair if we play 4 against 1 and even then, he’s more likely to win.

I had my Monday night book club online. Another win for the bookclub. Nobody talked about the book and only one person had read it. Nevertheless we are moving from a monthly to weekly bookclub for the duration. We did this via Microsoft video conferencing which I declare to be less satisfactory than zoom.

I tried to set up a zoom conversation with my brother and sister for later in the evening but my brother refused to take part as he was meeting up for virtual drinks with his friends. Where will it end?

The hook which holds the elastic on the Princess’s teeth snapped off and the wretched orthodontist did not reply to emails or calls. My own dentist replied with admirable promptness and texted me immediately to say that his view was that she should take off all elastics and her treatment would be extended for however long the crisis took although he caveated he was not an orthodontist. He is sensible though. She is gutted and also has put blue tack on the sticking out hook to reduce the pain. Miserable? Miserable.

Herself said to me that Whatsapp is a very panicky medium and never was a truer word spoken. My phone is filling up with worthy middle class, middle aged suggestions for myself and my children to achieve online during the crisis and it is mildly stressing me out. Meanwhile Daniel’s GAA team have been given a series of exercises to do every day and his team mates are posting themselves doing the exercises to the Whatsapp group. This is stressing out poor Daniel.

Mr. Waffle finished Daniel Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year” and said it’s not great. Reading the hard books so we don’t have to. Despite considerable pressing by me, no one is willing to read “The Siege of Paris” even though I read out some of the best bits over breakfast. Possibly becuase I read some of the best bits out over breakfast. Not feeling much up to new books so picked up “The Grand Sophy” by Georgette Heyer for a reread and was pleased to see that my mother had written her name and March 1965 on the flyleaf and I thought fond thoughts of her picking it up for the first time 55 years ago.

Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Mr. Waffle found what he thought was another dead rat in the utility room. On closer examination he felt it was some cooked food the cat might have scavenged from a bin. In any event he disposed of the…item and cleaned the floor with bleach. Did I mention that while I am in stately isolation in the study/dining room, Mr. Waffle is working in the utility room or the rat hole as we now know it. In my defence, I am videoconferencing all the time.

When you have 2 adults and 3 teenagers using broadband for class streaming, video conferences and other internet related excitements, you have mediocre connectivity at best, it turns out. We’re all learning. The Princess’s English teacher failed to show up for class leaving them all sitting there like digital lemons.

We made more bread.

Herself made chocolate cake from the neighbours’ hens’ eggs. We gave one cake to the neighbours. We’re not savages. Yet.

For an outside exercise break, I made Michael clip the hedge. I am justifiably proud of my efforts.

Mr. Waffle reorganised the contents of the random chargers box.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk and admired the deserted streets of the city. Not that deserted, actually.

I can see a lot more of this kind of fascinating content being available.

Wednesday, 1 April, 2020

God, work was absolutely frantic. Michael missed a zoom class for school. The Princess’s teeth continued sore and no sign of the wretched orthodontist calling. My bread failed to rise. I had a little cry as it felt like I was failing at work and at home. It was a low point. I was somewhat cheered by this video.

Thanks to the neighbourhood whatsapp group, I now know the names of everyone on our street and the DVDs and books they have available to share. GDPR, how are you?

At the end of the day, Mr. Waffle, herself and myself were going to go for a walk but I skipped it to deal with the latest work crisis. Possibly a mistake.

My sister’s company might put her on a three day week. She’s reasonably philosophical.

We’re all a bit worried about my mother-in-law in her nursing home. My brother is finally out of quarantine after his trip to France.

Rentokil did not turn up. The neighbours explained that they had come last week to lay poison and now they are coming back for the corpses/to check if it worked and it seems this is less urgent. But yet.

Thursday, 2 April, 2020

On the whole, a much better day. I started putting my work mobile on silent over lunch and it improved my life by 100%. At lunch time I walked to the bottom of the road, alone in the rain and it felt like quite the break. Dear God. The days all feel a bit the same. I never thought I would miss going in to the office, but I do a bit.

My sister skyped with my father and me. A much more successful operation than I had imagined possible. He looks a bit beaten down by his hospital experience but it was really nice to see him.

The Princess, Mr. Waffle, Michael and I went for a walk while Daniel slaved over his books – he seems to be getting a lot of homework. Michael went back after 10 minutes having been forced out so, at least Daniel had company.

We found another dead rat in the garden. The rat plague is like a Greek chorus to my pandemic woes. You’d be surprised how many people have had rat problems, may I say?

In other good news we got a partial refund for the money we’d paid for the Princess’s school tour to Barcelona having already gloomily written it off.

Herself is testing out new make-up options.

We’ve started watching an Australian series called Rake with the children. It’s deeply inappropriate but it’s the only thing we all like so we’re going to stick with it. Judge away.

My father finished his quarantine, he officially does not have the virus and my sister got to sleep in her own bed so a win all round.

Friday, 3 April, 2020

Work continued busy but I was on a half day and got to take it which was terrific. Herself made pancakes at 4 and we all sat down and ate them. My sister’s company is not moving to a three day week after all, apparently. She’s taking the chopping and changing very calmly.

Mr. Waffle, Daniel and I went to play table tennis and then I went off for a cycle on my own which was calming.

Saturday, 4 April, 2020

We skyped my mother-in-law in the nursing home. Not a great experience for her I feel but we sang from our repertoire of songs and she seemed somewhat appreciative.

There was more hedge cutting. The garden is going to be amazing when this is over.

Online preparations continued for what herself is referring to gloomily as her “quaranteenth birthday”. She’ll be 17 on Easter Sunday.

She and I went for a long cycle in the park together and really enjoyed ourselves which was a surprise to both of us.

We played online games via zoom. Some unhappiness but basically a success, possibly to be repeated.

More eggs from the neighbours. I see further cake making in our future.

Sunday, 5 April, 2020

It’s so odd not to be going to mass on Palm Sunday and the prospect of all the Easter preparations without setting foot inside a church.

At the initiative of my sister-in-law in London, we’re having a family bake off competition to conclude on Monday, April 13. There had better be prizes for everyone is all I can say. Also, special prize for anyone who successfully uses coconut flour.

Online Sunday book club again. Satisfactory. Also a quick walk with Mr. Waffle. No exercise for the boys. Alas. On the plus side, we all did our jobs on the cleaning rota and the house is spotless.

Herself maintains she hears rats under the floorboards in her room. Surely not?

I’m afraid all this content is dull. But things are dull and a bit stressful, I fear. How is your own quarantine going?

Plague Diary – Part II

26 March, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Siblings

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Mr. Waffle pointed out that yesterday was the Spring equinox and from now on days are longer than nights. Just as well.

It’s my first mother’s day without my mother. Here we are looking arty in 1969.

My sister visited the grave today and planted some flowers but she fears that the dandelion is king. Alas.

Still no Sunday mass. It’s so strange. Daniel and I went to play tennis instead but all the courts were occupied with two sets of people waiting to go on. There were four young people playing football on one court but I lacked the moral courage to do anything about it so we just gave up and went home.

Mr. Waffle and I swept the patio and cut back the foliage; something that made me ludicrously happy. Welcome to the land of middle aged thrills.

We went for a walk in town dutifully socially distancing. Temple Bar was the emptiest I’ve ever seen it.

On our return home, my loving family made me afternoon tea and gave me flowers. Very satisfactory. Herself made brandy snaps. I love a brandy snap.

Mr. Waffle is reading Daniel Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year” and I am contemplating re-reading my book about the fall of Paris which I remember as being impressive on life under siege in 1870. I feel sure I will find some bons mots with which to enthrall you all. So far, all that has happened to plague diary man is that he can’t decide whether to leave London or not.

My father continues to improve in hospital and if he doesn’t catch this wretched virus, he should be discharged home safely shortly.

In other news, my hands feel like scaly lizard mitts from constant washing.

Monday, March 23, 2020

I went into work. Town was absolutely deserted. The office was pretty empty also. We’re on a rota.

Behold a city centre street at 8.15 on a Monday morning:

Brown Thomas (department store) was encouraging us to pull together in Irish.

My father was tested for Coronavirus and came back negative. The hospital said that he could be released home. My sister did Trojan work with the discharge co-ordinator. My brother was already in self-isolation in my parents’ house after coming back from France the previous Tuesday. Even though he had tested negative, the hospital said that my father would still have to go into isolation. My sister said she would move home and mind my father and she and my father and brother could divide the house between them into separate self-isolation zones. My sister pointed out that neither she nor my brother would be able to go and give my 90 year old aunt her pills and her carer has, ominously, a cold. So, unless, they could find someone else to cover, I would need to come to Cork, stay in my sister’s house, not see my father or my brother and sister and check on my aunt every day. I stood ready, given how much my poor sister is doing but I was relieved when they found someone locally.

Britain went into lockdown and my three year old niece in London who has always been pretty dubious about outside as a concept was the happiest child in England. Her parents are sending us regular footage of her ongoing delight at being indoors with both parents all the time which are very entertaining.

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

I worked from home in the morning. The technology continues to work really well although I am already tiring of the video conferencing. Mid-morning, herself and myself walked up to a local shop to buy nice bread (no joy) and the owner said that he was closing the following day for an indefinite period. I hope he comes back.

I was in work for the afternoon. There was much running around and reading the runes after the Taoiseach’s speech further shutting down the country. Was everyone’s presence in the office essential? Could we all be set up to work from home? Apparently we could. Then possibly we could but some presence was essential (as someone said, “my indecision is final”).

Meanwhile, my sister managed to get a radio and headphones into the hospital for my father. He had been having a miserable time as the light was too poor for him to read and he was too deaf to listen to the radio without blasting everyone in a 2 mile radius. Our woman on the inside (my aunt’s cleaner who also works as a hospital cleaner a couple of days a week) went and set him up and put on his headphones. He was delighted but now there is no chance of him ever picking up the phone when I call.

I noticed that I was beginning to lose track of the days of the week without the anchor of regular schedules.

The libraries which have been stellar in the crisis (audiobooks, ebooks, you name it) reassured punters that it didn’t matter when they brought back their outstanding loans. In some ways, not as reassuring as they may have intended.

I used up the last of my dinner candles. And (unrelated) still no flour available in the shops.

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Herself began to paint her ceiling.

I did not think that the city centre could be emptier than the day before but I was wrong.

It was finally decided that we did not need a full-time presence in the office as everyone was tooled up to to work from home and the technology worked like a charm.

It was my father’s 95th birthday and, notwithstanding headphones, I managed to get hold of him and wish him a happy birthday. He was cheery at the prospect of discharge on the following day.

Herself completed her ceiling painting. I understand that further decoration is to follow, if the paint ever dries. She is currently marinating in paint fumes.

We got a communication from the school that they were engaging with the insurance company to get back the money paid for the school trip to Barcelona. I know this is very #mymiddleclasshell but here are the things we have booked and paid for this year which it appears after some engagement with insurers will not be refunded:

Ski trip last week (very bitter);
Daniel’s trip to Paris at Easter to stay with friends;
The Princess’s aforementioned trip to Barcelona at Easter (if Mr. Waffle can get no money from the insurers, I have no confidence that the school will be successful);
A weekend in Northern Ireland in April for myself and Mr. Waffle (actually, I think they might let us change to later in the year);
A fortnight in Germany for herself in the summer;
Family holiday to NY and LA in the summer (is there some chance this might go ahead? I am not loving our chances at the moment).

Still, as a young colleague pointed out to me, everyone has something. Another colleague told me dolefully of how he and friends had flown to Vietnam only be turned around and sent straight back to Ireland on the next flight.

A professional singer who sang in the adult choir at our church has died. He was in his early 70s, I’d say and very sprightly although a bit superior. Funerals are now small family affairs so we didn’t attend and I don’t know anyone who did. In the current circumstances rip.ie (a resource without which etc.) now has a load of comments under condolences and I see that the poor man seems to have died from Coronavirus. Grim.

I made the whole family watch “Daybreakers”. Only two stars on Netflix but who doesn’t like a high concept film about vampires that’s slightly schlocky (Mr. Waffle apparently).

Not having watched the news in years, I am now avidly consuming the nine o’clock news every night. Everyone hates it but me.

All of the neighbourhood whatsapp groups set up to help us through the Coronavirus are going crazy. So far no one has taken up the many offers of shopping for elderly neighbours and people are offering each other DVDs and books to swap. I suppose we all feel like a bit of community engagement.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

I worked from home. I dragged the boys out of bed about 11. They were stoic. Michael as his daily exercise cut the hedge and swept the path. I was quite pleased. Inspired by his effort, this evening I pursued my long held dream of moving the compost bin. Quite difficult but mission accomplished.

We got bad news from my sister. My father had a temperature and they wouldn’t let him out of hospital. Public health said no and public health are basically running the country now. My sister spoke to my father who is not a particularly emotional person and she said that he said his heart was broken. I feel so sad for him but fingers crossed it’s nothing serious and they will release him next week. I think we’re all a bit terrified he’s going to die alone in hospital having cannily managed his health for so long but maybe we are all unduly pessimistic. I certainly hope so.

At 8 this evening everyone in the country was encouraged to stand outside and clap for the health service. I am very grateful to the health service but I thought it was a fairly stupid idea. I forgot all about it but at 8 I was sitting inside and I heard this thunderous clapping, I went to the front door and there were all the neighbours up and down the street standing at their front doors clapping away and I joined in, somewhat sheepishly. It was surprisingly moving.

Tell me your own plague updates.

The Personal is Political

12 March, 2020
Posted in: Siblings

My sister’s colleagues were wondering whether the parking in Middleton train station was free. One of them undertook to investigate and report back. He did so. Where was his first port of call when trying to work out this knotty question? He rang his local TD’s office. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

Explore the Midlands

9 March, 2020
Posted in: Ireland, Siblings, Travel

For reasons to do with hotel points which are quite complex, my sister wanted to stay in the Sheraton in Athlone in winter. She and I ended up going there the last weekend in February. She said that I was surprisingly ungrateful for someone getting a free weekend away. In my defence, the midlands are not the most beautiful part of Ireland and nowhere in Ireland is beautiful in a cold, rainy February (fight me, tourist board).

Storm Jorge was raging during our trip and most of the midlands was even more sodden than usual so we decided not to go walking in Boora bog which a number of people have recommended but about which, to be honest, I remain a little unsure.

We had an excellent dinner in Thyme restaurant on Friday night which made me feel considerably more warmly towards the midlands than I had earlier. Then on Saturday, we woke up to lashing rain. We drove up to Roscommon to Strokestown House admiring the flooded fields on the way.

That thing sticking up above the water in the middle of the picture is the top of a gate. Once we got into Roscommon, it started to snow which was actually very pretty though hard to photograph as we speeded by in the car.

Strokestown House has the national famine museum which wasn’t bad but covered a lot of generic material which I would have known already. What was more interesting was the local material which dealt with the murder of Major Denis Mahon in 1847. He inherited Strokestown just before the onset of the famine in 1845 and evicted huge numbers of tenants sending many of them to North America on coffin ships. The museum, does, in fairness, point to how heavily indebted the estate was and the Major’s financial difficulties but the evidence points to a ruthless approach to a starving people.

The house itself is very interesting. It’s a (freezing) big Palladian pile designed by Richard Cassels (a man fond of curving wings see also Leinster House in Dublin and Powerscourt in Wicklow). The last of the family to live there was Olive Hales Pakenham-Mahon who died in 1981 and the house is basically as she left it, shabby furniture and all. She was the great-granddaughter of the murdered man. The young man who was our guide was perhaps not an expert on history or all things Palladian but he had his stock of stories about the house which were enjoyable. I asked him about how the murder was thought of in the town now and he was quite reserved on this point. He did say that everyone in the town knew who had killed the Major and two other people were hanged for it but even 170 odd years later he was strangely reluctant to talk about it. I’d say people have long memories around there.

We drove back via Longford town which is somewhat lacking in nice afternoon tea venues but I have to say we got a lot of tea for a small outlay in the Longford Arms and that was something, I suppose. That evening we had dinner in The Fatted Calf, Athlone’s most famous restaurant, and very nice it was too.

In summary, the midlands in February, better than you might expect. Best of all though was getting to spend the weekend with my sister. We should probably try to do it more often.

Alas

7 March, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Things are not going well. On Wednesday my 94 year old father fell at home. There was no one else in the house. He inadvertently turned off his mobile phone in the excitement so it was about an hour before my brother came home and found him. He seemed alright. The next day, Thursday, he got up and then he got stuck in the shower. His GP came round (now retired, old buddy of my Dad’s though much younger and has basically, as far as I can see, kept my father as his sole patient to tend to his needs) and said he suspected a broken pelvis and sent him off to the hospital by ambulance.

My brother went in with him. He enjoyed the usual on a trolley experience in A&E. I spoke to my father on his mobile phone. He was taken off for x-ray. My brother went home. I considered getting to Cork for the weekend once Mr. Waffle got back from Luxembourg where he had gone for work on Wednesday. The hospital went into lock down because they had a Corona virus case. My father’s mobile phone ran out of charge. That evening I rushed home, fed the boys and then drove for miles to collect herself from her friend’s school where he had been acting in the school play. Something by Harold Pinter. Honestly, notions. She quite enjoyed it, thanks for asking. Possibly the last outing before Corona virus shuts down all the schools.

On Friday morning, I woke up with a sore neck. I was stuck in the pose of a tortoise with neck jutting out of its shell. I have been here before. I limped around the house in agony and unable to bend. Herself said she was a bit snuffly and asked, hopefully, should she stay home as a friend of a friend living about 50 kms away had Corona virus. I sent her in. I limped in to work (unable to cycle, obviously). I sneezed on the tram and everyone around moved away in a marked manner. Good tip for anyone who would like a bit more space on public transport. At work, in a disturbing development, the only position in which I felt comfortable was hunched over my keyboard typing.

My sister spent Friday trying to get updates on my father. He spent the day phone free, visitor free in A&E on a trolley while the hospital dealt with its Corona virus problem by sending 60 staff into self-isolation, which is not great if you’re 94 or, indeed, any age.

Meanwhile, on Friday night herself was in her short film which was being screened as part of the Dublin film festival. Her father was only getting home from Luxembourg at 8.30 and could not attend, her aunt was supposed to come from Cork but was stuck in Cork on high alert for my father, her brothers were supposed to come but a friend of theirs from school was organising pizza and a film for another friend of theirs who is having chemotherapy and has stopped school for a bit (chemo, Corona virus, bit of both?) and they wanted to go, so I felt that they should and they could see the film another time. Her cousin and aunt from Dublin were coming. As we arrived at the cinema, her Dublin aunt texted that they were stuck in traffic. I sent herself scampering off to sit with her friends and sat near the front as I had forgotten my glasses (look, I had a lot on). I quite enjoyed the short film as it featured my first born and many of her friends. I enjoyed most of the other shorts screened as well. Aunt and cousin arrived but I did not see them, alas, as they arrived a bit late and had to leave early.

We had originally planned to have pizza as a big group after the screening but circumstances beyond everyone’s control meant that there were just a pair of us – myself and herself. But it’s an ill wind and it meant that we were able to drive out to the airport and collect her father rather than leave. My sister texted to say that the hospital had finally managed to get my father on to a ward 36 hours after being admitted with (it transpired) crushed vertebrae rather than a broken pelvis (a good news story, basically). Later I picked the boys up after their evening out. Did they have fun? They did. Did they have any trouble finding their friend’s house in the dark (they had to go alone on foot as I was at the film)? One did and one did not. Was there any reason why they would chose to travel separately through the mean streets in the dark given that they were going to the same place? Nobody told them they were to travel together. Was it not obvious? It was not. Anyway, in small world stories, Daniel (who was the one who got lost) ran into a friend from his GAA team who was out walking with his father. The father knew Dan’s friend’s father because they had gone to the same school and grown up on the same road and was able to escort Daniel safely to his destination. Big city, small community.

There was a bit of consternation on Friday as the nurse said to my sister that my father was cognitively impaired. He wasn’t when he went in on Thursday. However, I managed to talk to a nurse this afternoon (Saturday) who was pretty helpful and said that he had had a free and frank exchange of views with his consultant that morning about his medication and that he was perusing the papers my sister had delivered to the hospital and which had wended their way to his room. The nurse charged his phone for him and he called me about an hour ago. Mostly to say that he needed my sister to call him so that he could instruct her to bring various things in to the hospital for him; partly to check whether my brother had got off on his skiing holiday (he had with some misgivings); and partly to complain loudly about the quality of nursing care compared to in his day (which I’m sure was gratefully noted by the overworked staff on the premises). So cognitively he seems fine, if grumpy. Apparently, they are discharging people, Corona virus or no, so I am hopeful he might be able to move to some kind of step down facility early next week.

Meanwhile next Saturday, we are supposed to go skiing en famille ourselves. I appreciate that this is a bit #mymiddleclasshell but between my poor father possibly at death’s door (though things have improved on that front over the past 24 hours); my tortoise like posture and general misery; Corona virus diverse alarms; and a number of logistical difficulties on the accommodation front (we are in a chalet with friends of friends and there have been some unfortunate miscommunications including my brother being in and then out again, he is currently out but has found somewhere else to stay – he’s going for a week with friends this week and family next, isn’t it well for him?), I can’t say I’m looking forward to it as much as I was when we booked it last autumn.

Finally, finally in my litany of complaint and woe, regular readers will remember that I am in the church baptism group. The parish priest has taken it upon himself to have a display in the church on what each church group does. Our group was not enthused; we all have jobs to hold down and plenty to do otherwise. But one of our number organised us all to do pictures. I paid herself good money to paint two of the six symbols of baptism for me and Michael kindly dropped them around to the woman up the road who is on half a dozen church committees and undertook to drop them into the parish office. I couldn’t help to put them up in the church as I was collecting herself from her Pinter play on the other side of the city on display night but surely now our work was done. Not a bit of it, next up, we each had to lead the Stations of the Cross on different dates. I felt myself both theologically and practically unable to do so and said so. Surely this was the end of it? No, this morning a message arrives saying each of us had to turn up at a different mass over the next week and show off the stand. I am not pleased. With all the other things going on, this Greek chorus of pings from the baptism Whatsapp group was not what I needed. I am, frankly, peeved. This could yet tip me over the edge into godlessness. Herself would be delighted as I’ve told her she has to keep going to mass until she’s 18 and she is exploring all avenues for an earlier exit.

Anyone else got any news or have I absorbed it all?