Siblings

Just Another Day for You and Me in Paradise*

19 September, 2021 Leave a Comment
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 of an idiot 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?

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

10 September, 2021 Leave a Comment
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?

On Holidays – Week 1

14 August, 2021 6 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, August 2, 2021 – Bank Holiday

The plumber returned. He’s keen to finish at least. We drove up to Carlingford, Co. Louth for the first leg of our holidays. It’s about 90 minutes from Dublin so a short drive. We stayed in the delightful, though oddly named, Ghan House. Recommended.

We had lunch in the town which is right beside the hotel. Inspired by friends, I had booked us in for activities. After lunch we went zip lining. We all quite enjoyed it. The children are experts and I found myself reasonably alright except for the time I got stuck in the middle of the zip line like Boris Johnson at the London Olympics.

Our hotel restaurant, sadly, did not open for dinner on Mondays. We went into the town in hunt of food. It was not very successful. We were briefly seated outdoors at a pizza joint but no sooner had we got our legs under the (socially distanced, no you can’t move the tables together even if you are from the same household) tables than the waitress arrived out and said, “We’re not serving anymore, the kitchen is closed.” This was 8 in the evening but there you are. Mr. Waffle said that it was like the staff were from Communist Eastern Europe and were having no truck with the idle ways of the West.

We had a slightly difficult combination in that the boys and Mr. Waffle and I could eat indoors but herself as an only partially vaccinated over 18 had to be accommodated outdoors. Eventually, a nice woman took our number and our order and said she would call us when an outdoor table came free. We mooched around the (v pretty) town a bit.

We admired King John’s castle. Imposing but, you know, we were a bit hungry.

Herself suggested we go back to the hotel bar. There were no staff in but they had an honour system and herself went behind the bar with her hand sanitiser and got us all drinks.

A great time was had by all but we were nonetheless, pretty pleased to get a call about 9.15 that our table was ready.

Carlingford isn’t perhaps the best spot for vegetarian options. Herself said that, having missed breakfast in the haste of our departure, she had had vegetable soup for every meal. Alas.

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

We were up with the lark to go off canoeing. I may have overdone the whole activity thing. Mr. Waffle and I had only a very brief opportunity to admire the view from what I think was the best room in the house.

We trekked off to the adventure centre and down to the water where we all got into wetsuits. Herself said that Michael and I looked like “Fattypuffs and Thinifers“. Neither of us was delighted. However, the actual outing was fun and our guide took us to a cave and had us stand under a mountain stream which, due solely to his remarkable enthusiasm levels, we were all clamouring to try.

After our adventure, we drove out of town to this, pricey enough but pleasant, garden centre/shop/cafe. It was in the middle of nowhere and proof, as herself pointed out while we stood in the queue for food, that if you build it they will come.

We had a quiet afternoon, exhausted from our activities. I thought I had bruised my sides but it turned out to be muscles I never knew existed squealing in agony following the unexpected activity. I went into town and visited the craft shops. I love a craft shop but I am trying to stop buying things as my parents’ house is full of things that I will be finding a home for and where on earth will I put everything.

We had booked dinner in the hotel and, cunningly, reckoning that there would be nothing Michael would eat, when booking I had asked could they make pasta and pesto for him. It was not a success, he was offended and grumpy and as herself has observed, this family runs at the rate of the grumpiest member. So even though the other two ordered away and the food was good, Michael’s outrage hovered over the meal like a gloomy rain cloud taking from the general bonhomie of the party. It was the first time we had eaten indoors (confusingly, herself can eat indoors if she is a resident in a hotel) and the portents were good but, alas, it was not a success.

Wednesday August 4, 2021

The activities continued unabated. We went to an escape room which was broadly enjoyable. In the course of our efforts to escape the young man who ran the centre had to give us hints via typed messages on a monitor. At one point one of the devices we needed was out of battery and I held it up to the camera gesturing that it was broken in the belief that he could see but not hear us. The monitor popped into life saying, “I can hear youse, ha, ha, ha”. This may have been moment of the match for me.

After the escape room triumph we went to the local library (small but with a very good selection of books), an antique/bric-à-brac place (where I restrained myself from purchase with difficulty mostly on the basis that anything I wanted to buy was almost certainly available in my parents’ house somewhere for free) and more craft shops. I was fascinated by this item in the antique place. What, we ask ourselves, was its journey from Milton Keynes to Carlingford?

I enjoyed seeing a large dog make off with a slipper from a shoe shop with his owner in hot pursuit shouting angrily. The owner went back to the shoe shop and insisted on paying for the slippers although the woman in the shop was equally insistent she should not: it is a small town and they clearly knew each other. In fairness to the dog, I can see why it was hard for him to resist galloping off with this item clutched firmly in its jaw.

We had lunch at a food truck (in Carlingford, yes, very nice too, I have to say although it’s far from breakfast burritos we were reared etc.). I thought of visiting Dundalk or Drogheda but my friend from Dundalk pulled no punches in telling me that they were “fairly basic towns” with only St. Oliver Plunkett’s head to recommend them. The children balked at the saint’s head so, leaving that treat for another day, we headed home.

When we got home, the plumbers were still there, there was grit everywhere and herself announced bitterly that there was an (as yet unused) toilet in her bedroom. As I pointed out to her, if we had visited St. Oliver Plunkett’s head, it might all have been sorted before we got home. She was uncomforted.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

I was up at 7 as the plumber was due at 7.30. You will recall that the work was to be finished last Friday. Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast leaving the children in bed. We ran into the postman who said that he had tried to deliver a parcel to us yesterday. We knew because we got the notice to collect it from the depot. “Never mind that,” said he, “I’ll drop it into you about 10 in the morning.” In fairness what a service.

We had invited friends of ours (a family of six who were over from the Netherlands – she’s Irish, he’s Dutch and the children are a mix but all v tall) to lunch. When the invitation was issued, we did not expect that the house would still be full of workmen who from time to time, as the mood suited them would turn off the water. We made a beautiful plum tart from the plums in the front garden. It looked amazing but, oh dear, tasted unbearably bitter. Alas.

Notwithstanding the logistical challenges, it was lovely to see our friends. The children all get on and we were all invited to our friend’s 50th birthday in the Hague in October. Very exciting. She made me laugh by telling me about her brother getting a new sign for his pub. The sign writer asked him, “Where do you want the apostrophes?” As though they were a decorative feature.

The plumber left without installing the sink which, for mysterious reasons, is not available until Monday week. Look we have a toilet and a shower. It’s a start.

Friday, August 6, 2021

A plumber free morning. Mr. Waffle took Daniel to a dentist’s appointment at 9.30 which I appear to have made in a moment of insanity. I believe my thinking was, let’s get it out of the way early. I dragged myself out of bed at 9.30 so that I would be up to let the postman in. Inevitably the doorbell rang at 9.35 while I was in the shower. I scooted down swathed in towels to pick up the parcel. The postman was unfazed. I assume he is well used to seeing people in various states of undress.

I made more jam. I am sick of jam. And it now appears that apple season has started.

We were supposed to go on a sailing trip around Dublin Bay in the afternoon. “No experience needed just buckets of enthusiasm,” said the website. I had definitely overdone the activity drive and no one, least of all myself, was in a position to display anything like buckets of enthusiasm so I was delighted when they rang up to cancel because of the weather.

A nice lady who lived on the road died. She was a great gardener and had given everyone cuttings over the years. A saintly neighbour offered to make up a bouquet for her from flowers from our gardens. Everyone was keen and she was immediately inundated with messages from people on their holidays saying, “Take stuff from my garden.” She did an amazing job and made up two big bouquets using all the flowers which seems to have been a big hit with the dead woman’s family.

One of the other neighbours said, “We must get you on to the flower arranging team for the church.” No good deed goes unpunished but I think she will probably be alright as she is, I believe, Protestant and it’s the local Catholic church for which her expertise is being sought. I’ll leave them to figure that one out themselves.

Saturday, August 7, 2021

I did almost nothing, exhausted by my week of exertions. My brother was supposed to be in Dublin for lunch but only made it about 6 which is late, even by his notoriously lax standards. A bale of hay fell on the motorway and chaos ensued leading to hours of delay. Really. He went straight out to see friends but is supposed to be spending the night here. We await developments.

As I was making more wretched jam in the afternoon I listened to an excellent podcast about the two girls who nearly drowned on paddle boards last summer. Sounds a bit niche but the nation, including me was rivetted by this (ultimately) good news story at the time. It seemed so improbable that they should have been rescued and, listening to the story, I am even more surprised that they made it. The families involved sound like lovely, lovely people and the whole thing is well worth a listen.

On Sunday, we are off to Sligo for week 2 of our holidays and then Kinsale for week 3. I will update you on our return. I am sure that you are on the edge of your seat out there.

End of Term at Last

7 August, 2021 2 Comments
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.

The Last Lap

1 August, 2021 Leave a Comment
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess, Siblings, Travel, Work

Monday, July 19, 2021

Herself expressed an interest in playing tennis and the three children trotted out together. They seem to have had a reasonable time. I was delighted as an ongoing source of guilt this summer is how little I have organised for them, particularly the boys.

Herself was able to register for her vaccine. It seems to be moving along very speedily now.

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Michael and I dined alone as Daniel and his father were at a GAA match and herself was out cycling.

Herself went for a cycle in the park with her (male) friend and she was exhausted when she got home having cycled at speed for hours. Her friend was trying to slow down but compared to her female friends and her mother, he was pretty speedy. Good for her, doubtless.

Wednesday, July 21, 2021 – Belgian National Day

The boys headed off to their aunt and uncle in Cork again and I was thrilled as I felt that it would give them a change of scene and the weather was terrific.

We moved the kitchen table outside. Satisfactory. The tablecloth is one I brought up from Cork. I remember buying it with my mother in Venice in the 1980s. It hasn’t seen much action since then as it’s a bit small for larger groups. It could do with an iron as well but it was too hot to contemplate approaching an iron.

The boys made it to Cork safely.

Thursday, July 22, 2021

The boys went to west Cork with their aunt and tried out the Dursey island cable car. The consensus was that it was not as exciting as it looks. They had glorious weather for it though.

Meanwhile, in Dublin, we baked in the heat. Jam season continued. From farm (i.e. front garden):

To fork:

Friday, July 23, 2021

In anticipation of the (much deferred) arrival of the plumbers on Monday, Mr. Waffle decamped from the utility room where he has been based since March of last year and took the last of his stuff back to the office. The end of an era.

Herself got her vaccine appointment for the next week (imagine) and we went out for an outdoor lunch together. Still very warm.

The boys were off in a hotel in Bantry with their aunt enjoying the luxury of indoor dining.

My lily has outdone itself this year. It needed a bit of extra support so I took a length of bamboo from the forest at the end of the neighbours’ garden adjoining ours. Theft or thinning of bamboo that’s probably good for it? My family have one view, I have another. Your thoughts would be welcome provided they chime with mine.

Saturday, July 24, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast to a local cafe for the first time in ages. We got more fun from this bag than you might expect. What order are the languages listed in? The only clue I will give you is that a bureaucratic mind was involved in this process. Answer below.*

We got a call from herself who had declined to come with us. “There’s someone in the house,” she whispered into the phone. “There isn’t, I’m sure,” said Mr. Waffle, “if there were, the cat would be going crazy.” “She is going crazy,” hissed herself. I zoomed home. There was not, in fact someone in the house. We’d left the back door open and the noise of the window cleaner working next door had floated upstairs and unnerved her (he came and did our windows next which was handy). The cat was indeed going crazy because she had managed to get herself in through a tiny hole in the cupboard under the stairs and couldn’t get back out again. What attracted her there? More mice or worse? Or just general perverseness? Mr. Waffle had to unscrew a wooden panel to let her out again. Idiot cat.

I went into town and bought a variety of exciting homewares. Even though I really shouldn’t. I mean, where is all the stuff from my parents’ house going to go?

Mr Waffle and I took the Dart out to Booterstown. A young man on the platform was telling all his friends how he had recovered from Covid. He ate a raw onion the other night and couldn’t taste anything. It seems, at best, unfortunate but he was delighted with himself.

We visited Mr. Waffle’s mother and then cycled on to Dalkey which was short of tea shops but we managed (middle aged problems if ever I saw them). I thought Bullock Harbour might work for a swim but it was more for jumping in and I wasn’t in a jumping in kind of mood so we went to Sandycove. The water was lovely but it was crowded. A young man was on a paddle board with a very small baby who was howling the place down. I offered to assist but he said her mother was coming. She was. Tense times in that relationship though as the baby howled the place down and the mother picked her way out among the sharp stones. Lads, I do not miss the challenges of minding small children.

While Mr. Waffle and I were out disporting ourselves, herself continued to work on her summer translation job – she’s translating something for a friend of Mr. Waffle’s and is near the end and the payout of filthy lucre – and the boys were off on Bere Island. My sister’s partner’s parents have a house there and they kindly invited the boys. It was so warm even Michael swam.

Sunday, July 25, 2021

This is the anniversary of my lovely Nana’s death. At mass the priest told us it was grandparents’ day. Who knew? I said a prayer for her although I doubt she needed it having been very saintly. I often think how strange it was that she would have worn long Edwardian skirts (she was born in 1897). I mean I know this seems an odd thing to obsess about but I just wonder what it was like to wear those clothes, they seem so remote from us now. She died in 1984 when I was 15 and I never really asked her about when she was young or the characters from the War of Independence (about whom she had views I understand from my mother – my grandmother got a medal and an army pension but I think she was always a bit ambivalent about some of the activities, she took the pension but applied it to charitable causes). I was an age, when she died, when she was a beloved character in my story but, for me, without any back story of her own. I tried to avoid something similar happening with my children and their Cork grandfather but this led to baffling sessions where I forced my unwilling children to ask my father questions about his youth and he said, “I don’t remember” and returned promptly to his newspaper. Perhaps these interests only come with age.

In the afternoon I took myself off alone to go for a swim as herself was still translating and Mr. Waffle didn’t fancy it. I left my phone behind in case it was nicked. Things I use my phone for as well as, obviously, phoning and texting: taking photos; listening to podcasts; internet browsing including checking the Dart timetable; telling the time (my watch is in for rather expensive repairs); navigating (google maps); paying for stuff (Apple pay, everyone has digital payments now, even the man selling ice cream from a van at the beach). I was surprised at how unnerved I was heading out without it. I mean I only got a smart phone for the first time in 2011, I have lived 80% of my life without one. I felt a bit of an idiot for being so dependent. You will be delighted to hear that I managed to get myself out for the afternoon without my phone and inspected the newly pedestrianised streets of Dun Laoghaire (grand, good even) and have a swim in Seapoint (heaving) and cycle without getting lost. No photos though.

Poor Mr. Waffle had a work call at 9 in the evening. But otherwise the evening was uneventful as we prepared ourselves mentally for our last week at work before the holidays and the arrival of the plumber and his accolytes at 7.30 in the morning. They were to begin the much deferred bathroom revamp (deferred from last October but in a very real way deferred from 2013 when we moved in and couldn’t afford to do it up – we’ve been living with the previous owners tiles for a long time). I feel a whole new post will be required to cover the bathroom excitement. Hold on to your hats out there.

*It’s alphabetical by language in the language. So Spanish is ES – looks out of order right? ES is the ISO code for Spanish but, obviously, Castellano is the Spanish for Spanish so it appears not after Danish as you would expect but after Bulgarian. The same is true for Finnish which reflects in its position the fact that Suomi is the Finnish for Finnish. Hours of harmless entertainment for all the family. I’m not sure I can stop at any time any more which is its own concern to be honest.

It’s been a Roller-Coaster

13 June, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, May 24, 2021

My 48 year old brother got his vaccine appointment having only registered the previous day. Where is my appointment?

Unrelated: I am quite pleased with the before and after haircut shots I got of us all.

Tuesday, May 25, 2021

Infants are being vaccinated around me. My brother got his vaccine in the City Hall in Cork. He said that the sign on the booth said “vaccine of the day” a bit like “soup of the day”. His particular soup was the Pfizer vaccine.

Wednesday, May 26, 2021

Herself had her school graduation. We watched it online and the students were in school. The school did a great job actually given the limitations of the format. They had a slide show. There were speeches and herself won an overall prize which was pleasing for her. Sitting in my office, watching it over lunch time, I shed a furtive tear. It is the end of an era.

I got my vaccine appointment for Saturday: let joy be unconfined. Mr. Waffle got his for Sunday. Looking at the invitation, he saw that it said you were to be at the vaccination centre exactly five minutes before your appointment time. “Do they think they’re vaccinating Germans?” he asked.

Thursday, May 27, 2021

My sister got her vaccine appointment for Tuesday. Everyone’s getting in on the act now.

Friday, May 28, 2021

It was Daniel and Michael’s last day of school. It lashed. Daniel was gloomy. A good friend of his is moving schools. They used to play basketball together in the yard after school. “You never know when you will do something for the last time,” he said dolefully. It transpired that the boys had played basketball the previous day not realising that it would be impossible due to the rain the following day. This friend lives nearby so I hope that they may be able to see each other despite attending different schools but Daniel has no faith in their joint organisational abilities. We’ll see.

Our neighbours are getting work done on their scullery and since our roofline is shared, we thought we might do something at the same time. We had plans when we did up the kitchen a couple of years ago but we ran out of money. We can afford it now so I suppose it probably is now or never but I do not welcome the thought of having builders back in the house. The architect called round and we talked about drawings and costs. Apparently, builders are almost impossible to get at the moment so it could be well into 2022 before we do anything.

Over dinner, the children discovered that all three of them are fascinated by the youtube channel of Canada ant guy. Interesting, if a little unnerving.

Saturday, May 29, 2021

Herself had her last applied maths class. Her teacher has been amazing, commuting up from Galway to teach them every Saturday. He promised them that if they did applied maths outside school he would keep teaching them for the full two years and he kept his promise even when he moved to Galway for work at the start of sixth year and even when he could have continued remotely. Did he get paid a penny for this work, his time or even his travel expenses? He did not. Very decent in fairness.

We got yet another road map. Let’s hope this will be the end of it.

I got my vaccination (Pfizer, the Gucci of vaccines I understand though I would have been quite happy to have the Dunnes Stores of vaccines). The vaccinator asked whether I was happy to take the vaccine today. “Delighted,” I said. I nearly cried with joy. The whole thing was impressively efficient. My appointment was at 14.40, I arrived at exactly 14.35 and I was vaccinated and sitting in the observation room by 14.43. Pretty good. I went to the shop and the library on the way home and got myself some middle aged treats to celebrate.

I had absolutely no side effects other than a sore shoulder for about 24 hours.

Then later that afternoon, Mr. Waffle got a call that his mother was not well. My poor mother-in-law, she has had such a difficult time in recent years suffering from dementia. When well she was a most delightful person and, a real tribute this, both of her daughters-in-law were extremely fond of her and we all went to my parents-in-law’s house as often as we could and all of us, adults and children, have had very, very happy times there.

Sunday, May 30, 2021

Mr. Waffle was vaccinated.

Mr. Waffle and the boys and I went out for a walk on the pier. A classic walk much enjoyed by my mother-in-law.

Then we went to visit my mother-in-law. It was pretty miserable. It felt a bit like suspended animation.

Later, Mr. Waffle went out to the airport and picked up his sister who had come home from London to see her mother. It was a very odd experience. She had a PCR test before flying and then the airports and planes were extraordinarily quiet. It was so odd he said, she was coming to visit their sick mother and he hadn’t seen her since November 2019 and he wasn’t even sure whether he could hug her. This Covid thing has been so grim in big ways and small.

Monday, May 31, 2021

I went into work. “Where are you going Mum?” said Daniel. “Work,” I said. “Still?” he asked. There’s something unsatisfactory about going to work when everyone else is on holidays. Herself and Mr. Waffle went out to see my mother-in-law. She seemed somewhat improved. After some toing and froing with the public health authorities, my sister-in-law who’d flown in specially, got to visit her too. We were all pretty relieved.

I was quite charmed by a video of my London sister-in-law and my niece singing some Italian classical number together after dinner that evening which circulated on the family whatsapp group. I think my mother-in-law would have been delighted. The in-laws live near the nursing home and we have been using them as a base when we go out to visit my mother-in-law which is nice – the cousins have seen a lot of each other lately.

That evening, Daniel came flying out of the kitchen, in to the rest of us and announced, “There’s a twitching headless bird in there.” Herself held back the irate cat while Mr. Waffle disposed of the corpse with a dustpan and brush. The perils of pet ownership are endless.

My latest copy of Slightly Foxed arrived. It is always a delight but I was mildly peeved to see that it came with a flyer plugging “The Oldie”. I felt that was a bit pointed.

Tuesday, June 1, 2021

With my mother-in-law so ill, I found myself thinking a lot about my father in particular. A big thing about losing a second parent which I didn’t really appreciate until it happened to me is that you will never go home again when you have no parents. I appreciate I have a perfectly good home with my own children and my husband and, indeed, that my parents’ home (currently in my brother’s custody) is available to me to visit. But somehow the idea that I will never call home again, go home again to the place that was home home for so long is very sad. I haven’t been to Cork since December when my father died and I am almost scared to go back to the house as it reminds me too much of my parents and their lives.

Mr. Waffle stopped off in the city centre on the way out to visit his mother and we had lunch in the park which was really lovely and I think, cheered us both up. His mother seemed to be improving a bit when he got to the nursing home. His sister went back to London and things seemed to be on a bit of a more even keel.

I arrived home and herself said to me, “I’m so stressed.” “I’m not surprised,” I said, “with your Leaving Cert starting next week.” “It’s not that,” she said, “it’s that I’ve been locked out of my gmail account.” A good sign, I suppose.

Meanwhile at dinner, Michael, who has an ability to tune out in relation to matters he is not particularly interested in, asked his sister solicitously, “Is your Leaving finished now?”

Wednesday, June 2, 2021

I went into town early for a dental appointment. I’d chipped a tooth at the weekend. I feel it’s probably the beginning of the end, random bits of tooth flying off. It was not my normal dentist who greeted me. Apparently he had retired and sold on the practice. His mother, who was the year ahead of my father in college, died last July (surely she and my father were UCC’s oldest medical graduates at the time of their deaths) and he subsequently yielded to his wife’s request that they move to Mauritius (where she is from and had a job offer to head up some GP training programme, not a random choice and I suppose after 30 years in Dublin she wanted a change). A slightly surprising development. The new dentist was fine anyway though, sadly, from Laois, not from Cork and, so far, we haven’t established any people we know in common. He said that I grind my teeth (I know) and this was why my tooth chipped. I’m to go back in a couple of weeks for further repairs. Sigh.

At lunch time I went to a specialty tea shop and got myself a new supply. I had a grand old chat with the tea vendor about options. Following our discussion, I moved on to Ceylon tea which I am quite liking. I told them all about it at dinner and herself said, “Every part of that story is boring in a surprising way.” This is why I have a blog.

My mother-in-law continued to be stable.

Thursday, June 3, 2021

I got up at 6.45 and felt like an American (I never normally get up before 8). Herself and myself cycled out to the park and then in to Chapelizod to have breakfast out together. It was very pleasant indeed.

I talked to my sister who had quite a poor reaction to the Covid vaccine and was feeling unwell. She had Covid at Christmas and I wonder whether that made a difference. Anyhow her own concerns were completely dwarfed by the discovery that a colleague of hers in India – a man in his 40s had died of Covid. What a horrible thing to happen.

Daniel having just recovered from a leg injury, hurt his shoulder in training. These sporting injuries are non-stop.

For the holidays, the boys are making dinner once a week on alternate weeks (herself is exempt until the end of her exams). Michael made risotto for dinner and it was excellent.

Friday, June 4, 2021

My mother-in-law continued to improve.

I intended to take to the hammock (hands down Mr. Waffle’s best ever purchase) for the afternoon with Soduku but only got in a brief half hour before my phone pinged.

Before the libraries closed for Covid, I ordered loads of books and these have been coming in over the last week. Almost every day, I got a text saying “The book you ordered has arrived.” I would rush out to the library and pick up the book (delighted now, in fairness) and then the next day, have to repeat. Is it a bit ungrateful to wish the notifications could all have come on the same day.

Anyhow, Dan and I zoomed out to the library to collect my books and also shopped for Friday night dinner which was a huge success for us. Literally, the best received meal I have ever prepared for my family. I think it was the range of options that won them over.

Saturday, June 5, 2021

Mr. Waffle, Dan and I cycled out to visit my mother-in-law in the nursing home.

She was so much better than when I had seen her the previous weekend. It was really heartening. As is standard most places we got our temperature taken when we arrived and yet again, the staff marvelled at how low Daniel’s temperature was. He seems to operate a couple of degrees below the rest of humanity.

I got a library notification that another book had arrived.

Sunday, June 6, 2021

I have been keen to cycle on the Royal Canal Greenway beyond Maynooth for a while and this was the day that the dream was to be realised. The weather was great. Daniel was resigned. Michael less so. The whole trip was slightly disastrous. We got the train to Maynooth with our bikes. I had never been. It’s an attractive enough little town and the castle and university campus are interesting.

To sweeten the troops we were having a takeaway pizza lunch in town (sadly restaurants still closed due to Covid). We got the takeaway pizza and I regret to report it was unutterably vile and not the mood improver we had hoped. We cycled out of Maynooth. Michael continued to act like a gloomy raincloud. We stopped for ice cream, he decided not to have any. We sat on the grass and looked up through the hedgerow to blue skies. Michael hunched over his book, the picture of misery.

In fairness, it is true, I suppose, that you need to be a certain age before you appreciate scenery.

We decided to cut our losses and, rather than cycle 20kms to Enfield which had been the original plan, just go 6kms to Kilcock. In part this was due to the relatively limited train service from Enfield and in part the air of unmistakeable gloom which by this time had settled on the whole party. We got the train at Kilcock. It was the inter-city rather than the commuter and we were unceremoniously tipped out at Maynooth as we hadn’t booked our bikes on.

At Maynooth we picked up the commuter train in a state of unabated gloom. Then the nursing home rang Mr. Waffle and we all looked at him anxiously. It was good news, his mother was much better but as a result we now needed to book our visits as heretofore rather than turning up unanounced at all hours of the day. It was a relief.

We got home about 5 hours after we left. Daniel said to me, “Were we really out for five hours to cycle 6 kms?” I am afraid that we were.

That evening we watched the oddest television programme. The premise was so bizarre that Mr. Waffle tempted us all to watch. The description is below. It was odd.

Monday, June 7, 2021

After the horrors of the previous day’s outing I announced that I would spend some time away from my loving family on the bank holiday Monday. They all seemed keen that I should do so.

I went in to the gallery, which was lovely.

I sent the troops a photograph of a picture of “The Fair Geraldine” whose family home we had seen in Maynooth the previous day.

I also sent a picture of Speaker Connolly. One of the train stations we had passed through on the previous day was named after his wife Louisa. If you haven’t read it, I cannot recommend highly enough this book about Lady Louisa and her sisters.

Despite my enthusiasm, my messages to the family Whatsapp group on Kildare related pictures received a somewhat lacklustre response. Too soon, possibly.

I bought some clothes in a shop. I had lunch on a terrace to celebrate the re-opening of outdoor dining. It was pretty good. And we managed to book our holidays. We will be spending a fortune to stay in Ireland but at least we have somewhere to stay.

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Herself asked me to light a candle for her exams as she had no grandparents who could do it for her which made me a bit sad. I lit five to be on the safe side in front of the statue of St. Bridget whose feast day is February 1, my mother’s birthday. Bound to be efficacious, I imagine. And my sister said she would light some in Cork which is clearly even more efficacious. You will have seen this joke on the internet, I am sure.

The Leaving Cert is such a rite of passage in Ireland that exam papers are covered in the following day’s newspapers. My sister tells me there are two kinds of Irish people, those who dream about their teeth (really?) and those who dream about the Leaving (this is me). This is the context in which loads of people sent messages wishing herself luck and her aunts sent cards and presents.

In further excitement, I had lunch outside with a friend for the first time in months. Herself who was trying to minimise contacts in the run up to the exams in case she is a close contact or gets Covid was not entirely delighted. Alas. Look, I lit the candles.

At dinner Michael asked herself whether her Leaving Cert was over. “No,” we all said, “it starts tomorrow.” “But,” he said, “she’s graduated, how can the exams be after graduation?” Good question.

Wednesday, June 9, 2021

At last, the start of the Leaving Cert. She headed off in reasonably good order to start with English paper I. It’s the creative writing part and she’s good at that. She did a story on a prompt about a person getting off the ferry from Fishguard. She said that she was half way through her story – where she intended to have the protagonist drown and was busy whipping up a storm – when she realised that the prompt involved the person getting off the ferry and she had to change tack in a hurry. It seems to have gone fine all the same.

Thursday, June 10, 2021

Herself enjoyed very much reading about her first exam in the newspapers. English paper II was in the afternoon and she had 3 hours and 20 minutes to get through it. Honestly, it’s the people who mark the scripts you’d feel sorry for. Herself was generally pleased although she did get a raised welt on her finger from writing at speed for nearly three and a half hours.

The hurling coach contacted Mr. Waffle and asked whether there was any chance Daniel would go back to hurling. He gave it up three years ago and he was pretty adamant at the time but this message seems to have landed at a good time and he said he’d give it a go. He had a pretty good time at training so it looks like his hurling career might revive.

Herself used my phone to ring my sister and as she was looking at my contacts, she said, “Do you mind me asking something?” “Fire away,” I said. “Well, you’re getting older now and people you know are dying. Are you going to take the dead people out of your contacts?” Apparently not. In fact, my parents are still in my favourites and, realistically, I’d be pretty surprised if either of them answered a call at this stage. This reminds me of that wonderful Joan Didion book, “The Year of Magical Thinking” which I read over a decade ago but really stayed with me.

Friday June 11, 2021

We’re having a bit of a reorganisation at work and this was my last day with the old team. One of them is a truly delightful older man, who I will really miss. He turned 65 today. He is showing no signs of retiring. You have to admire his enthusiasm for the world of work.

I took Daniel to the physio to look at his sore shoulder. She took him to the gym (I have been to the same physio – I didn’t even know there was a gym, I feel expectations of a fit 15 year old and an unfit 52 year old may be different) and put him through his paces and pronounced him broadly cured and good to play in the match the following day. He was pleased. Following the success of our previous week’s shop, Dan and I bought material for dinner again.

I forced Michael to cycle to the library with me (another reserved book notification) as a change of scene from Crusader Kings in his bedroom. I would point out though that he has had some success against the old enemy in his game.

On our way back, some young men in a car were irate that I wasn’t cycling fast enough and shouted abuse at me which I found unpleasant. Michael said that I should ignore them or else they’ve won which is admirably zen like of him but I was not so zen.

Herself had maths paper in the afternoon. She met our neighbour, a retired maths teacher, in the lane on the way home and they had a good old chat about it. Due to Covid students are not allowed to talk to each other after the exams and I think she is missing the post-mortem which is a traditional part of all examinations in the normal world. Her parents are quite useless for maths so I was glad she met the neighbour. He asked her to post the paper through his letterbox when she was finished with it so that he could go through it. Lads, it takes all kinds.

We had a barbecue for dinner. The weather held which was good and the very elaborate range of food was broadly welcomed. However, the occasion was somewhat marred by the chicken skewers going on fire early in the proceedings. Alas.

Saturday, June 12, 2021

I cut the grass in the back and lounged in the hammock with the paper. Delighted with myself. Daniel had a football match in Malahide, noble Mr. Waffle took him. Michael continued his quest for world domination in Crusader Kings with a brief break to mow the grass in the front. Herself studied diligently for next week’s exams. Her uncle said to her not to listen when people said she would learn nothing two days before the exam. Of course, he personally had always found that advice disheartening because that is when he began studying.

I saw this flyer on a lamp post and asked herself if the Irish was right. She had a lot of thoughts about the use of the urú. I’d say she’s ready for her Irish paper next week.

At dinner Michael asked herself what exams she had had that day. Everyone turned on him and shouted, “It’s Saturday!” This whole Leaving Cert thing is taking a lot out of him.

It is rose season and this is filling my heart with joy.

The peonies are also putting out their best efforts.

That’s enough for one post.