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The Four Provinces Tour: Part 3 – Leinster

29 August, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Travel

Monday, August 17, 2020

We had intended to stop for lunch at an appealing cafe but sadly it was closed down indefinitely. We limped around the back roads hunting for an alternative. We passed by Clonmacnoise , like literally passed the front gate of Ireland’s most famous monastic settlement which it transpired none of my children had ever heard of but, happily for them, it was closed. Offaly was in local lockdown and this included the local heritage sites.

We pushed on past plague country and into Westmeath which was open. I thought Moate might be nice. I don’t want to be unfair to Moate and nowhere is at its best in driving rain but I thought it was a grim enough spot. Almost all the cafes were closed Mondays but we eventually got lunch in a vile little deli and sat outside on the side of the road in the rain eating it. Unlovely.

We were home a little over an hour later. There was endless souvenir unpacking – my tea towel needs are met for a life time. You may admire a sample staged for your delectation along with the made in China ewer.

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The cat was quite peeved with us but relented eventually. The marmalade we had bought as part of a present package for the neighbours to thank them for minding the cat leaked with predictably disastrous results.

I had another couple of days off and I decided to go down to Cork and visit my father the following day.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 2 – Connaught

28 August, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Sunday, August 9, 2020 – continued

We drove over the Donegal county bounds into Sligo and I discovered that we would be going really close to W.B. Yeats’s grave, so we stopped for a look despite some consumer resistance. It’s a very beautiful graveyard with a lovely view over Benbulbin. The children were, nonetheless, broadly underwhelmed. “Those dying generations at their song” eh?

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Our airbnb host in Mayo messaged to ask whether we needed a cot. Herself suggested that I reply “No, as I am the shortest member of the family and I am 51.” Oh very funny.

Eventually after our very long drive, we arrived in our accommodation about 6. I was attracted to the place when I saw it because the view was so beautiful but Mr. Waffle was a bit reluctant as it was spartan inside. We compromised by deciding to stay for a few days only before going further west.

The view was entirely as advertised.

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It was in the Gaeltacht (Irish speaking part of Ireland) and our hosts spoke to us in Irish which was rather nice. I could tell that the mother was a teacher as when I said that we were staying after in Galway and forgot the séimhiú (alas) she said patiently, “I n…”. The house itself was very old fashioned. It had belonged to the grandparents of the current owners – a brother and sister in college – and they decided to let it out on airbnb. Their mother, in Irish mother fashion was the person most on top of the logistics though. Herself and the daughter let us in with masks on. She soon took over from the daughter in explaining the house’s quirks. It was a bit old fashioned but it was clean and fine really. As I unpacked in the bedroom, the smell and the atmosphere reminded me of older country relatives’ houses that I had visited growing up and I thought all that’s missing really is the sacred heart on the wall and I turned around and there he was looking benignly down on the bed.

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My saintly first born agreed to make dinner as her father and I were exhausted. After dinner we sat out for a bit looking up at the stars and catching glimpses of the bats swooping about.

Monday, August 10, 2020

After our epic trek from Derry the previous day, we didn’t feel up to much. I spent a good while looking at the view. The weather was beautiful. I settled myself down and finished off Queen Mary. After 622 pages it was like saying farewell to an old friend.

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We carried out a raid on the Centra in Clonbur which left a bit to be desired but better than nothing. Herself came with me as she, yet again, had agreed to cook dinner. She made burritos, possibly the most successful dinner of the holiday.

In the afternoon I persuaded Mr. Waffle and Daniel to come swimming with me in Loch na Fooey.

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It was cold but I’ve had colder. I pointed out to Dan that we were actually swimming in “Les lacs du Connemara” but he remained unmoved. “Only one lac,” says he.

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Afterwards we drove in to Leenane a small town on Killary Fjord. Ireland’s only fjord. The thrills keep coming.

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

I thought after my investigations the previous day, that Leenane might provide a satisfactory breakfast so Mr. Waffle, herself and myself went to explore. Not entirely satisfactory but not bad either.

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The roads were full of sheep which treated cars with complete indifference. My city child was keen to get up close with a mountain sheep but as soon as she hopped out of the car, they scattered to the four winds in alarm.

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In the afternoon I persuaded everyone out to Loch na Fooey for a swim. Everyone swam except Michael who sat on the beach reading his book with his coat on so not a 100% success rate but look, you can’t have everything. He was resigned to his fate in going to the lake and being forced to look at scenery but wild horses weren’t going to drag him into the boggy lake water.

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Leaving the children back to the house, Mr. Waffle and I went into Cong to inspect the former abbey and sample the delights of the town. Fine, you know, but seen one ruined abbey, you’ve seen them all; this was certainly the strong view of the children.

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The film “The Quiet Man” was filmed there in the 50s and the town is still very proud of this. There was, inter alia, a plaque on a bar unveiled by Des McHale sometime UCC prof of maths; author of the Kerryman joke books; father of the Guard in “The Young Offenders”; and, it transpires, author of a book on “The Quiet Man”. His daughter is a friend of my sister’s and she confirmed that he is originally from Mayo which possibly explains his interest.

We ran into a former colleague of mine. She was with her husband and children. She explained that only two of the three were hers. We chatted about Corona virus. Wouldn’t you hate to be from Kildare, Laois or Offaly gone back into lockdown? One of the children piped up, “Hey, I’m from Kildare!” “Shh,” we said as one and my mortified former colleague hastened to assure me that the child had left Kildare before lock down was announced.

We came home and watched the sun go down from the front door.

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Wednesday, August 12, 2020

It was probably the hottest day of the year. Mr. Waffle expressed a desire to walk up the mountain and see the deserted village. I insisted that we all go. Daniel, however, had a sore foot so was invalided out and I decided to stay with him. The other three had a wonderful walk which two of them very much enjoyed and one tolerated. Apparently there were spectacular views. Still Daniel and I sat in the garden in the shade of the hedge, reading our books and looking out over the lake and, I have to say, that wasn’t bad either.

We tried to go and see a sheepdog demonstration (herself became fascinated by sheep) but the farmer said that unfortunately, he had to take his wife to hospital; I contacted our accommodation in Clifden where we were going that evening and the owner said someone would meet me but she had to take her newborn to hospital; finally I contacted our hosts about checking out of our accommodation in Mayo and the owner was in hospital getting eye surgery. I felt like I was some kind of disaster maelstrom. Probably not though. Anyway, the owner’s Mammy came across the field to check us out and said he was fine really – it was only laser eye surgery – and not to worry about him.

On this cheering note, we took ourselves to Clifden about an hour away, on the coast where we would be staying until the following Monday.

When we were booking accommodation for this holiday, it was a bit thin on the ground and we ended up renting this apartment in Clifden that was much too big for us. It had, 6 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, two reception rooms, a kitchen and a dining room. Though no dishwasher regrettably. The children each had a television and they were thrilled. I had hoped that perhaps my sister might be able to join us for the weekend and use up some of the space but, alas, it was not to be.

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Leaving the children to bond with the excitement that was the enormous flat, Mr. Waffle and I walked into town. Clifden reminded me a bit of Dingle. It was clearly a tourist town heaving with people from Dublin (including ourselves, I suppose) and prices were quite Dublin like as well. It was not what I would call undiscovered.

We went out for dinner and when we came home it was to discover that the extended family group from downstairs were having a party. Good voices, in fairness, but unappealing at 3 in the morning.

Thursday, August 13, 2020

Herself spent the morning watching the Covid committee on Oireachtas TV. Unclear what to say to this; my child has unusual tastes. Mr. Waffle and myself went into town and visited the library: not bad at all. Opened at a time when there were many French tourists in the area, I assume.

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We picked up some shopping in the excellent supermarket (a bit notiony but dammit, I like notiony) and had a wander around town and all in all did very little all day. I saw a copy of a biography of Queen Adelaide in a second-hand book shop and picked it up as my new area of specialised interest appears to be lesser-known British queens consort (or queen consorts? Inquiring minds want to know, advice in the comments please).

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Friday, August 14, 2020

Distressed by the indolent nature of the previous day, I forced them all out of the house and we went to Roundstone, stopping off on the way to have a look at the site where Alcock and Brown crash landed on the bog after the first non-stop crossing of the Atlantic by air. I am forced to concede that it is, well, a bit of bog. I thought Roundstone would be a bit bigger and different from how it actually was. I was worried when we got there that we would have nowhere to lunch at all but happily we were able to get sandwiches from a shop and eat them by the sea so not too bad.

We went to the beach afterwards. Gurteen beach and Dog’s Bay just outside Roundstone are the most spectacular beaches on a tombola (back to back on a peninsula). Only Daniel and I swam but it was probably my nicest swim of the summer. The water wasn’t too cold, the sun shone, the beach was breathtakingly beautiful and we had it pretty much to ourselves.

I don’t have a good photo so you’ll just have to take my word for it; on the other hand, I do have this photo of me doing a handstand in the sea so it’s not all bad.

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We then had a successful, though early, dinner in Guy’s bar in Clifden (latest booking I could get was 5.30) getting us home in plenty of time for some of the party to watch Barcelona v Bayern Munich. I was fascinated and delighted by this extraordinary story of two local girls rescued from their paddle boards after 15 hours at sea.

We went to bed relatively early and I was not delighted to be woken by the carousers downstairs at 4 in the morning. We moved to a bedroom on the opposite side of the corridor and that was fine until at 8 someone downstairs started playing the guitar. Why, I mean, why? So we moved back to our original room, the 4 am crowd, understandably, showing no sign of life at 8 in the morning.

Saturday, August 15, 2020

In my ongoing attempt not to miss anything, I took those who were willing – Mr. Waffle, Daniel and myself – to Mannin beach and very nice it was too though you would want to keep your wits about you in the effort to find it. That may explain why there was almost nobody there except ourselves. That and the light drizzle.

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Still, notwithstanding the rain, the water was shallow and warm and we went for a nice cup of tea and a bun in a cafe afterwards and the sun came out. The cafe was lovely and…vegan. The west of Ireland is full of vegan/vegetarian outlets. I am surprised. Herself confessed to me recently that she has gone vegan outside the home but is still only vegetarian inside because she knows if she went vegan it would tip me over the edge. She is correct. I was sorry she missed the vegan cafe though.

Proving how thoroughly middle-aged I now am, I insisted on going on a nice drive. The Sky Road loop gets a mention in the tourist books and it is well worth the trip in my view – the whole drive was only about half an hour and the views are spectacular.

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Herself made dinner again. Interested parties discovered that between eating out and herself and Mr. Waffle cooking dinner, I hadn’t made dinner since leaving Dublin. Not even sorry. We played cards after dinner but it was so warm that we went outside to the courtyard. Sadly, we were then eaten alive by midges. These are not typical Irish holiday problems.

All our neighbours having left, I enjoyed my best night’s sleep since arriving in Clifden.

Sunday, August 16, 2020

I was awoken at 11 by a grass strimmer which sounded like a loud and angry mosquito but this was an acceptable improvement on being awoken at 4 in the morning. We mooched around and after lunch I announced that we would go to Kylemore Abbey. This was greeted with no great enthusiasm but we gathered ourselves up slowly. So slowly that I realised that there was a risk we would not get there before last entries at 4. On the drive there we were stuck behind a slow campervan (inappropriately named, the Rapido) and we pulled into the car park at 3.56. Mr. Waffle and the children ran to get tickets. We made it. I have to say, I wasn’t particularly keen to go in the first instance but having committed to it, I would have been bitter to have missed it.

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The house is a bit of a Victorian monstrosity but the site makes it look amazing. It used to be a girls’ boarding school for years but now it’s open to the public and quite nicely done. The President and his wife turned up at the same time as us and, to be fair, aside from their own personal guide showing them around, they had no special attention and didn’t cause any disruption to other tourists – all of whom were Irish and, as such, obeyed our code that no one should ever, under any circumstances, indicate that they have recognised a well-known figure – so he was left in peace also.

We had a cup of tea in Letterfrack afterwards. “Does that name mean anything to you?” I asked the children. It did not. To me, it was nortorious, as it contained an industrial school – a sort of juvenile detention centre – which even by the standards of the time was considered harsh. I was surprised to see that it had closed as long ago as 1974.

After we had dropped the others home, herself agreed to come to the Sky Road at sunset with me if I took her to see a Marian shrine on the road which she had found intriguing. We were both quite pleased with our deal.

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We then had a quiet evening in, trying to finish off all the food we had bought. Mr. Waffle found a book on Marconi (also active here where a big station was built as the first landing point for messages from America) written by another UCC academic – Mick Sexton, former elec eng prof. They were following me around along with Marconi.

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Monday, August 17, 2020

We left Clifden and headed east towards Leinster. “Stay with us” as they say on my favourite podcast.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 1 – Ulster

22 August, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Friday, 31 July, 2020

We drove up North on Friday afternoon. As we sped across the border, herself announced that she had forgotten to pack socks. This triggered an unwelcome thought: I too had forgotten to pack socks. Unfortunate.

We stopped in Hillsborough for a cup of tea. The excitement of using foreign currency; red postboxes; funny number plates. Almost like being abroad though not quite.

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We stayed in an airbnb outside Ballycastle. It was a family home and the family were there when we got there having just finished an extensive and, by the look of them, exhausting clean up. The family were lovely and gave us loads of great tips about places to eat and visit. They left us with a much used map of the area. Mr. Waffle had, naturally, already bought one of those but we forbore from saying so. They warned us off visiting Tor head, a local beauty spot on the grounds that Nicole Kidman and Willem Dafoe had closed it off to visitors (some class of film, I understand rather than a joint holiday).

The house itself was a triumph – I was delighted with myself. It was huge with a bathroom for everyone in the family and one spare. It had every conceivable kind of streaming service. I would highly recommend if you find yourself planning a trip up North.

We went into town to get fish and chips for dinner but, sadly, the place recommended by our hosts had just closed so we went along the sea front to Marconi’s which had the advantage of being open. They did look at us in disbelief as we asked for a table for 5: what now? Yes, it’s 9 in the evening and we would like to eat. Happily they managed to find us a table. It was grand and busy. Lots of Northern Irish accents – clearly they were holidaying at home as well. Food was fine and we were getting used to eating out safety precautions. I paid by card as I always do these days but wanted to leave a cash tip as the machine didn’t allow for tips (why?). I went up to the bar with a €50 note and looked for change but, sadly, as the staff pointed out, it was the wrong currency. Alas for the tip.

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Marconi set up a station in Ballycastle and used it to transmit messages to a nearby island (Rathlin) hence the restaurant name. Did you know Marconi’s mother was Irish as was his first wife? Yes, yes, I’m a mine of fascinating information.

We went for a short stroll after dinner. Ballycastle is a really pretty little place – a traditional seaside town right on the beach.

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It is also, wikipedia tells me, nearly 80% catholic and, if GAA club membership is a sign of that in the North (and I understand it is) then that may be why there were not one but two GAA clubs in town and loads of lads in GAA shorts and jerseys wandering around the sea front with their hurls over their shoulders.

Saturday, 1 August 2020

Herself was up with the lark and went on a looped walk nearby which our hosts had shown us. She got a bit lost but made it back eventually. I would have worried but I was in bed asleep so all well from my perspective at least. She was a little peeved that no one searched for her (her father is not a worrier so he had just continued calmly eating his breakfast and reading the paper).

Herself and myself went to the nearest Tesco in Ballymoney to get emergency sock supplies. A friend from Bangor once told me that when she went to the Antrim coast on holidays as a child they drove up through Ballymena and Ballymoney and her parents used to say, “If you weren’t so Ballymena with your Ballymoney, you could buy a Ballycastle.” It works better with a Northern accent and is also a handy guide to navigation.

On our way, we stopped off at the Dark Hedges which are about a mile from the house. The internet abounds in atmospheric pictures of the trees on this road. This is not one of them. The place is full of tourists (including ourselves) in day glo lycra (not us, in fairness) and it takes from the mysterious atmosphere.

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Northern Ireland is rich in flags and Ballymoney had plenty of Union Jacks reflecting the more general Antrim demographic. We wore our masks in the supermarket as this is a thing in the South but not so much in the North and almost no one was wearing a mask except a cross older gentlemen who hissed at me, “Very disappointing to see the staff not wearing masks, isn’t it?” I felt it was a bit rough to blame the poor old Tesco workers for the general environment so muttered something neutral into my mask. Handy for muttering, the old mask.

After lunch we went for a walk along Ballycastle beach which is lovely.

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The town itself is a bit quieter away from the seafront but still reasonably busy and not as small as I was expecting. Sadly, though, the Ballycastle museum was closed for the duration of our stay.

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We wanted to go for a cup of tea in the flash hotel outside the town recommended by our hosts and it did look enticingly lovely with lots of chintz when we ran in from the driving rain outside but, sadly, they could only offer us a seat in the courtyard where a number of depressed looking tourists were gathered under a canopy. We decided against.

When we got home, we had planned to do the loop walk but it was still lashing, so we settled down to watch “Hamilton” which was available on our hosts’ extensive TV package and which I was curious to see. We know all the songs from hearing herself sing them around the house. Nevertheless, a stage production on the TV just isn’t great, I feel. It’s also quite long, isn’t it? We saved the second half for the following evening. Something to look forward to.

Sunday August 2, 2020

Mr. Waffle and I went to mass. I didn’t bring the children in case we couldn’t get in but we could. I felt a bit bad spreading illness to the elderly particularly since the priest kept telling us all how we didn’t have to come.

After mass we decided to seek out a nice cafe for breakfast. We bought newspapers from across the spectrum to enjoy with our breakfast. We asked a young woman in the supermarket for advice on breakfast venues. “Ardoyle’s,” she recommended. Extensive internet searches did not unearth Ardoyle’s. We did, however, eventually get to “Our Dolly’s”. Northern accents, though delightful, present their own unique challenges to Southerners.

Our Dolly’s provided a hearty breakfast but was not what I would describe as a healthy option.

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In the afternoon we went to Murlough Bay (ancestral home of Roger Casement and where he wanted to be buried, apparently). The drive there was beautiful (if a little unnerving at times) and the beach at the end of the drive was delightful. Dan and I went for a swim. It was definitely my coldest swim of the year but I enjoyed it in retrospect.

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That evening I went for a walk to Pan’s rock on the beach at Ballycastle (more lovely views) and had a look at the ruins of a friary across the road. I went on my own as I felt that familial tolerance for both these activities would be low. The friary boasted the grave of the local “black nun” a 17th century “recluse and prophetess”. I have not come across black nuns before so that was novel. They also claimed that the ruins possibly contained the grave of local hero “Sorley boy” or Somhairle Buí in Irish. He was quite the character and in any exploration of this part of the world, he crops up very regularly.

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I insisted on watching “Hamilton” to the end. It was hard going.

Monday, 3 August 2020

Myself and herself went to test out a cafe at Whitepark Bay recommended by our hosts. It was an excellent recommendation. We enjoyed it very much. We drove home by the coast and the scenery was spectacular. We stopped off at Ballintoy which is a pretty little harbour. I tried to take a mother/daughter selfie but the results were not entirely satisfactory due to my ineptitude. Some of the party were quite amused by this.

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We then did a pretty thorough exploration of the shops of Ballycastle and did our bit to boost the local economy.

In the afternoon we went to Glenariff for a walk (it’s one of the nine glens of Antrim – all of which I can now name, you will, doubtless, be delighted to know). There was some tetchiness on the way there due to a difficulty with directions. As we u-turned for a second time, herself intoned dolefully from the back seat, “Ah yes, Cushendall where my parents got divorced.” You will be pleased to hear that after the strain of getting there, it was a lovely walk. Filled with wild raspberries. Does this strike you as odd?

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We went for a reviving cup of tea afterwards. A great value excursion yet again as the UK Government has a scheme to encourage eating out in Covid times – you get 50% off your bill up to a maximum of £10 per person on Mondays- Wednesdays. What’s not to love? We missed it when we came South, I can tell you. I had a German biscuit a delicacy I had come across for the first time earlier in the day. Appealing. It was nice to see it wrapped in clingfilm as well as this was the first establishment that we’d been in that hadn’t got a 5 out of 5 hygiene rating.

We bought some Northern Irish crisps for research purposes. I was particularly intrigued by the gammon and pineapple flavour. I regret to have to report back that despite its tasteful, upmarket crisp packaging, it was not a success.

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When we got home we had another look at the options on our hosts’ streaming service (including Amazon Prime, lads – our principles forbid us from buying from Amazon at home but if someone else has already paid for it, it’s fair game).

Tuesday, August 4, 2020

We were booked to get the ferry out to Rathlin island but we changed our booking in view of the dreadful weather forecast. We have never made a better decision. It bucketed down. Leaving Michael to enjoy staying in bed, Mr. Waffle, herself, Daniel and I went back to the cafe in Whitepark bay. I was enthused. Daniel said, “Honestly, sometimes you are like a middle-aged child.” Harsh but not unfair.

We were perhaps a bit peckish as we waited for breakfast and herself did not add to the cheeriness of the wait by commenting during a gap in our desultory conversation, “If you could all be just 10% more interesting…” Happily breakfast arrived before any of the party was murdered.

I had to check in with work which I did not love but it was ok. I may have said this before but it’s really struck me – we’re not working from home we are living at work – and I do not like it.

To cheer myself up, I went in to Ballycastle and bought an enamel ewer. My mother would be appalled if she knew what I paid for it and there is almost certainly one lying around in the attic of my parents’ house in Cork although, probably not one that was made in China, in fairness.

After lunch the rain showed no sign of letting up so I tried to drum up enthusiasm for a trip to the Ulster Museum in Belfast. Herself came. We had a nice time in the museum looking at art and arrived just in time to be let in as ticketless walk-ins. Gratifying.

I enjoyed the crochet sphinx.

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Also a painting of Fair Head from Ballycastle beach which, for your delectation, I have artily juxtaposed with a snap I took myself of the same view.

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There are also paintings by Lavery (of course) and John Luke of whom I was not particularly conscious before but whose work I really like.

Then we hit the shops and went for a cup of tea before heading back north to Ballycastle. All in all a very successful little outing. One of the things that really appeals about Northern Ireland is how close everything is.

Meanwhile in Coronavirus news, it was announced that re-opening of pubs in the South was to be further delayed. Not a great sign.

Speaking of signs, omens, portents, we all moderately enjoyed watching the dramatisation of “Good Omens” on Amazon Prime. Cast of thousands.

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

We went on our deferred trip to Rathlin island. I think we all liked it more than we expected to. The ferry ride over was superb. You go across the Sea of Moyle and I quoted the “Song of Fionnuala” at the children – “Silent O Moyle be the roar of thy water” etc. – which, as you can imagine, they enjoyed very much.

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The rain held off and we went for a walk on the island. It felt like we pretty much had it to ourselves. It is lovely and with loads of points of interest to walk to and practically no cars.

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Herself had read a short history of the island with an emphasis on the fate of the Irish language and regaled us with various anecdotes. We found the author’s grave in the C of I graveyard – I thought that meant he was Protestant but it turned out that they take all denominations there which surprised me a bit. There’s a catholic church on the island as well. The graveyard was full of interest. My favourite grave – from a very competitive field – was the one erected by Prince Albrecht of Waldeck.

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I spent much of my time in Ballycastle working my way through James Pope-Hennessy’s biography of Queen Mary (600 odd pages, like the curate’s egg) and, in consequence, had a greater grasp of minor German royal houses than I am ever likely to again so I was able to place Prince Albrecht. Why was he on Rathlin? Herself knew from her history of Rathlin book that the Gages were the big family locally (mixed reviews) and following some research it transpired that Dorothea Gage had married a German princeling. Probably some class of relation to Queen Mary. Small world, eh?

I got a couple of messages from work but, overall, it was a relatively peaceful day on that front.

We had another stroll on Ballycastle beach that evening after our return from Rathlin and herself made dinner. A thrill. Though not as big a thrill as getting a message from Expedia that our flights to America were to be refunded followed by actual refunding. And, even though I diligently saved up to pay for them, it felt very much like free money rather than the product of careful saving. I was extremely pleased. It was shortly after this that I noticed the palms of my hands peeling from continual use of hand sanitiser as I nipped in and out of the souvenir shops in Ballycastle sharing my good fortune with them by purchasing pictures and assorted tea towels and the like. Middle aged thrills. Good job Expedia, in fairness.

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Due to some logistical issues, we ended up going back to Our Dolly’s for breakfast. I regret to say that it continued unsatisfactory.

We went up the town to the post office to deal with my stamp difficulties. The UK has a thing called 1st and 2nd class stamps which are unknown elsewhere and I got confused (insert your own joke about the British class system here). The woman in the post office looked at me pityingly but addressed my difficulties. Like all people in Northern Ireland, in my experience, she was shocked by wanton waste of money and when I said give me all international stamps and even if I send some within the UK, they’ll get there anyway, she looked at me in horror. But I was Expedia flight refund rich and went for it anyhow.

Mr. Waffle, herself and myself went to the Giant’s Causeway. The boys refused to come on the grounds that they had seen it before. I felt it might be worth seeing again but they ranged themselves firmly with Dr. Johnson in this matter.

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Graffiti from the 1790s for your delectation.

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Dan and I went for a swim on Ballycastle beach later. Bit chilly but pleasant and nothing is ever likely to be as cold as Murlough beach.

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As it was our last night in Ballycastle, we went out for dinner to O’Connor’s bar which was a success. They took our temperature on the way in which was the first time we had had that since Kinsale in July. I suppose it’s a good way to weed out the actually ill.

We picked up some of a local delicacy which looks like Crunchie but in texture is more like a stick of rock. Information I wish I had had before I bit into it for the first time. Quite nice though.

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Friday, August 7, 2020

We took off for Derry. We stopped off at Dunluce castle. It is very impressive. Some guidebook tells us that a wing fell into the sea at one stage taking a number of servants with it; so very close to the sea. It was originally built by someone else but, inevitably, Sorley Boy, took it off them. Apparently it was the inspiration for Cair Paravel in the CS Lewis (from Belfast, of course) Narnia books and I can totally see that.

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Even the children agreed it was quite spectacular. Then we went back into Bushmills for a browse before lunch. It’s a pretty little town with a famous distillery, many British flags and a nice statue celebrating Ulster Scots. The post office boasts an extensive collection of Visit Ulster posters but, sadly, not the one I wanted. The post mistress seemed genuinely devastated for me but I bore up alright.

In the Diamond which is what they call the central town square in Northern Ireland (I wonder at what point in Irish geography does the Diamond become the Square?) there was King Billy supporting the NHS. Northern Ireland is an odd place in some ways.

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After lunch we drove on to Derry in driving rain so my proposal that we should have a brief stop off at Mussenden Temple was vigorously vetoed. By the time we arrived in Derry, the rain had stopped. Our hotel was in the centre of town which meant that there was no parking at the hotel but on balance, it was well worth it for the location. Some tension in the car as in the midst of navigation, I had to field a work call. When we got to the hotel (which I would really recommend by the way – Shipquay hotel), the others collapsed and I dealt with my work issue. After an hour or so, Mr. Waffle and I went for a stroll around the walls leaving the children to bond with the hotel.

Obviously, I knew Derry was a walled city but I had no idea it would be so impressive and so compact. It’s a planned city and it’s very easy to navigate around. I was charmed as we walked around the walls.

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And there was an Irish flag just outside the walls at head height from our position on the ramparts. Closer inspection revealed that it was on a very high pile of pallets and likely to be set alight later in the evening. So there was that.

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That evening we went out to dinner in a lovely pizza restaurant across the road from the hotel. All of our ordering was done online by phone and then the staff brought food – very speedy – and we paid by phone too. Sadly, a very loud party of six was seated immediately behind us. We seem to attract party groups. The children spent some time explaining Reddit to me. “There’s a r/ for everything,” explained Michael. “Even for Mary of Teck?” I asked dubiously. “Everything,” he assured me fervently, I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel. Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that there is not, in fact, and r/ for Mary of Teck.

Meanwhile on the Coronavirus front, three counties were shut down in the Midlands – Laois, Kildare and Offaly. Not great news, then. In slightly related news, herself said that the UK was going crazy over A level results – “Just another incident in the Class of 2020 carnival of horrors,” she observed sagely.

Saturday, August 8, 2020

Breakfast in the hotel was excellent and the staff were absolutely lovely. In fact, everyone we met in Derry was particularly friendly.

We dragged the children out for a walk around the walls. Somewhat to our surprise, there was an extremely heavy police presence. About a dozen policemen with enormous guns. I asked one of them what was going on. To my surprise, he had a Cork accent, there’s cross-border policing for you. He explained that it was the day of an important Orange March but due to Corona virus it had gone ahead in a much reduced form. As we walked on a couple of bowler hatted gentleman with sashes walked briskly past and smiled at us remarking what a lovely day it was – as indeed it was. I’m glad all the same that we missed the usual parade. I am indebted to a local Northern paper for the following background information:

The Apprentice Boys have cancelled their annual August Relief of Derry parade because of the Covid-19 crisis. Held on the Saturday closest to August 12, the Apprentice Boys march commemorates the end of the 1689 Siege of Derry. The event, which is the single biggest parade in Northern Ireland annually, attracts thousands of Apprentice Boys, bands and followers every year. …Confirming the move yesterday, the organisation said the decision to cancel, planned for August 8, was taken with disappointment.

Irish News

Honestly, you would have to feel for the NI tourist board. A friend of mine from the North told me this joke. What are the months in Northern Ireland? January, February, March, March, March…

The children pronounced themselves reasonably impressed by the almost entirely intact 17th century city walls. They particularly liked the fact that they could trot back to the hotel very easily from there.

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The children went back to the hotel while Mr. Waffle and I had a look around the Guild Hall. Mildly interesting and quite an appealing civic building which has recovered from fire and bombing. There was a book of condolences for John Hume in the main room upstairs. Downstairs was a plantation of Ulster exhibition which was probably a bit more interactive when initially opened.

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Also, who has a stained glass window dedicated to her? Queen Mary, that’s who.

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We then had lunch and a little break – the risk of sunstroke was very real. It was boiling. Mr. Waffle took Daniel to the O’Neill’s superstore where he got a Cork GAA top (sadly only his second-favourite county team) and herself scampered off to explore the joy of Superdrug a large pharmacy/make-up retailer unknown in the South.

At 3.10 we turned up at the local history museum but last entry was at 3. Who has last entry at 3 on a Saturday? Who? Corona virus hours, I suppose. We took ourselves outside the town to dutifully look at the murals in the Bogside and the Free Derry wall (like King Billy, a supporter of the NHS).

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We nearly expired from the heat. Who would have thought it? In Derry, in August.

For dinner we went to this restaurant outdoors across the road from the hotel. There was a sort of outdoor shopping area amid Georgian stables and it was actually very nice. It boasted an impressive mural (Northern Ireland, home of the mural) – apparently Derry used to have an absolutely massive garment industry.

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We had our dinner in a place called Soda and Starch and it was possibly the nicest meal we had over the whole holiday. We were tired, hot, hungry and foot sore when we arrived and we left entirely restored. And we only had to stroll across the road to the hotel. A big success. I only have a before picture.

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I made everyone walk across the bridge over the Foyle after dinner.

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Everyone else was a bit tired after this but I still fancied a further walk around the city walls. Mr. Waffle came too. There were a load of young teenagers drinking on the walls and I was suitably outraged and said in middle-aged matronly way, “Where are the PSNI now then?” When we got a bit further, we saw that the gates in the wall were locked. We turned back and went the other way and found that the police were all patrolling with their guns around the loyalist part of town. I’d forgotten about the Orange March but it was clearly still a big day locally and there was maybe a bit of tension.

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We decided it might be time to head back towards our hotel. It wasn’t exactly intimidating but it felt like it might get a bit exciting later. The armoured car trundling down towards the river reinforced that impression.

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Sunday August 9, 2020

After a sustaining breakfast in the hotel, we took ourselves to the museum. Lots of history. Someone said of the Balkans that they make more history than they can consume locally. The same is true of Derry. There was a lot about the siege of Derry and Lundy’s betrayal (not a popular figure locally) but also about the development of the city over the years and there was an exhibition on partition which we all found pretty interesting.

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Then we headed back to the house and picked up our bags which had mysteriously multiplied. I think we can agree, though, that the Tesco bag for life is a classy addition to any luggage collection.

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We drove in to Donegal and ended up stopping for lunch at a luxury hotel which was not at all our intention but pubs and standard lunch spots were few and mostly closed so there you are. It was grand.

Then we drove out of Donegal and out of Ulster and in to Connaught. Stay tuned for the next exciting update.

Cork!

19 July, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Work

Saturday, July 11, 2020

We finally got on the road to Cork. Let joy be unconfined. A friend of mine has a holiday house in Kinsale and as she and her family are based in the US and unable to travel this year, she suggested I should go down and I decided that that might make a nice change now that nationwide travel is again possible.

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Daniel fell asleep in the car. He explained to us that he had been awake all night as his wrist was so sore. Ominous.

We stopped off in Cork on the way to Kinsale to get supplies and to visit my father. Cork was looking delightful, I must say.

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My father was only alright but he perked up a bit when he got the chance to examine Daniel’s (carefully sanitised) wrist. “A bad sprain,” he pronounced, “or possibly a scaphoid fracture, he’s going to need an x-ray.” We took Daniel to the clinic and they took an x-ray and diagnosed a bad sprain. He got a support for his wrist and we were finally free to go on to Kinsale.

My friend’s house is in Sandycove, just outside the town and it has one of the best settings of any holiday house I have ever been in. The views are delightful.

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Sunday, July 12, 2020

I was sorry that poor Daniel’s sore wrist meant that he wouldn’t be able to kayak or swim but he had a better night with his support and slept fine.

The day started off overcast but the weather cleared as the day went on. Herself developed an inexplicable interest in Greek and she and Mr. Waffle spent a happy hour sitting together going through the basics (mostly the alphabet as far as I could tell) while the boys played Magic (if you don’t know, you’re better off) in their bedroom. There was no real internet – coverage was poor and I didn’t want to use my friend’s wifi with a data cap. We were thrown back a bit on our own resources and I was surprised how ok that was for all of us.

My brother cycled to Kinsale to visit us. It’s 30kms from Cork city but as he explained, he had to get a pump from a friend in Waterfall so he came the long way and did 45kms. I am baffled. He called me to get directions to the house. “I’m coming into Sandycove now, where is it?” he asked. As I was talking to him, Mr. Waffle was saying, “I can hear him.” Fortuitously, he had called for directions from the bottom of the drive. We were all pleased to see him and he promised to come back later in the week to try out the kayaks.

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Myself and the Princess went out for an experimental kayak. It was satisfactory. We swam as well. A bit on the chilly side. The set up for the kayaks was excellent with private access to the shore from across the road from the house and, better again, a nearby island to kayak out to.

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Then we went into Kinsale for a stroll. It is a very attractive little town and although I’ve known it all my life (even had my wedding reception there), it’s still lovely to visit.

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Because I had briefly lost my mind and, I suppose, because there was no internet, I agreed to play monopoly. I still hate monopoly. Only one person left in a huff. For reasons I cannot explain the version of monopoly my friend has in Kinsale features St Barth. I now know more about property values in this Caribbean paradise than I expected to after a week in Kinsale.

Monday, July 13, 2020

It was lashing rain. I was on to work first thing and as coverage in the house was pretty poor, I had to drive the car around the corner to talk to people. Maybe not the best start to the week.

On the plus side, Daniel said his wrist was much, much better. The hospital rang saying they wanted to do another x-ray to check something that was unclear from the first one. A mixed report then.

A friend of Mr. Waffle’s who has bought a house in Kinsale and currently getting it renovated came to visit. She’s from Cork but based in London and had been self-isolating at her mother’s house for a fortnight. She found it tough going, I think. There were loads of English accents in Kinsale and, although a lot of English people live in the area, I have to say, some of them definitely looked like holiday makers. Other non-Irish visitors seemed thin on the ground.

That afternoon, Daniel’s wrist was so much better that he wanted to go out on the kayak. I was a bit reluctant but himself and Michael went out and had a great time, so I think we can probably rule out those concerns about a broken bone.

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My father’s uncle and aunt had a house in Sandycove and after dinner, Mr. Waffle and I went for a look. It was a lovely Georgian hunting lodge and I experienced definite regret that it had been sold on rather than going to their deserving nephew and niece (Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia didn’t have any children of their own and my father and aunt were the only children on that side of the family, there are lots of things from that house that ended up in my parents’ house and some even in mine. By all accounts Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia were absolutely lovely, they certainly had lovely things).

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Feeling extremely sorry for myself, I got up at 7.30 in the morning and did 90 minutes of hard labour on the laptop. My general sorriness for myself was tempered by observing Mr. Waffle who, also very busy, got up at 4.30 to finish something. Note to file, no more July holidays.

In ongoing success for Tuesday, I took the family to the Old Head of Kinsale where I have been many, many times. Not since the 90s though, it appears, as all access for non-golfers has been blocked since then. I knew about the travesty that was building a golf course on the Old Head but I thought some limited access for walkers had been retained. My mistake.

We went back into Kinsale and walked to St. Multose’s church. You may recall that I have become fascinated by the dramatist Lennox Robinson who it turns out was from Cork. I mean, who knew? His father was a curate in this church and his nephew put in a stained glass window so we went to have a look. Lennox Robinson’s sister married one of the Dormans who were a big family in Kinsale and I was pleased when Mr. Waffle told me that he noticed that there is still a scion of the Dormer family on one of the church committees. Ah continuity.

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Then we walked out to Scilly and had lunch in the Bulman. A traditional pleasure which seemed largely unchanged and, for me, was only marred by fielding a brief work call. The restaurant seemed fine – only one menu per table and a sign at the door asking you not to come in, if coming from abroad and you hadn’t self-quarantined for 14 days, but otherwise pretty much as normal.

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We did some brief shopping in Kinsale and then Daniel and I kayaked out to the island.

Mr. Waffle and I fielded some last work calls and then it was time for dinner.

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After dinner, he and I and the Princess walked out the headland to get a good look at Aunt Cecilia and Uncle Jack’s house. I did feel a mild pang. My father has always been strongly against holiday houses on the, not unreasonable, grounds that then you have to go to the same place on holidays every year. But I quite like going back to the same place. My father said that when Jack was getting work done on the house, everything went wrong – the builder went bust etc.- and for the duration, he and Cecilia put up at the Imperial hotel on the South Mall. The glamour, lads. He was an engineer and he designed a turf powered central heating system for the house. Revolutionary for its time, I’m sure, but I would imagine it has been replaced by now.

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View from the house out to sea.

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Herself was a bit glum as she wanted to spend a couple of days staying in a friend’s house in Cork but we vetoed it on Coronavirus grounds. It’s a bit hard to know what the rules are and I felt a bit of a heel as she has been so good but, on balance, we decided best not.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Mr. Waffle had a big meeting at 10 and I said that I would take the children to Cork for the day so we were up showered and in the car for 9.55. Quite the achievement, I can tell you. At 10.30, he rang to say that (very positive) developments meant that he did not actually have to work all day after all. We were in Cork by then so I left him to rejoice alone. On my own count I rejoiced also as I was not expecting any more work calls for the remainder of the week.

Herself and myself went into town in Cork leaving the boys in my parents house enjoying the thrill of re-connecting with the internet. It’s a bit weird going clothes shopping when you can’t try anything on so I failed to buy anything other than 6 vests for my father and a new teapot (a particularly middle aged haul) but herself got a couple of things. She bought herself a poké bowl in the market (it’s far from poké bowls etc).

We went back to Kinsale after lunch and my brother drove down to join us at about 5.30. We went out in the kayaks with him, went swimming (absolutely freezing), had dinner together and played 20 questions, it was lovely.

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About 10.30, he said that he had better go and wondered aloud whether a) he would have enough petrol to get to Cork, the low fuel light was on and b) whether the garage in Kinsale was open. As to b) the answer was no. He went off into the darkness and I very much feared I would get a call to rescue him but no, he just managed to limp to Cork airport where he was able to fill up. Honestly, once a feckless younger brother, always a feckless younger brother.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

This was our last full day in Kinsale. Herself went into Cork city to meet a friend and Mr. Waffle, the boys and I went to Garrettstown beach. It’s my father’s favourite beach near the city and the place we almost always went when we were children. We took the body boards as it usually has great waves. The waves were not as fantastic as normal but Daniel and I still had an excellent time. Mr. Waffle went in only briefly and Michael, after a brief paddle, declared it just too cold.

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I went up to Cork and paid a last visit to my father before collecting herself from town. She had been to the cinema which, she said, was an odd and almost solitary experience. She also said that a lot of shops in town weren’t letting in people who hadn’t the Covid tracker app. The previous day it was announced that pub openings would be delayed and that masks were to be compulsory in shops so perhaps everyone was just a bit more vigilant.

As it was our last night, I’d booked us in to a restaurant in Kinsale where I had been previously for lunch but never for dinner. It was busy enough. We had our temperature taken on the way in and there were screens between tables. Sadly our screen did not protect us from the noise of the cheerful but slightly drunken Dubliners at the next table who were celebrating the birthday of one of their number. The service was slow, the food was mediocre and the noise was deafening. Overall somewhat disappointing. Honestly, I’m just not sure how well this whole thing is going to work when people are drinking and eating out. I saw our waitress snap a picture of the drunken Dubliners on one of their phones. It’s all a bit worrying.

We scurried home to have dessert looking out at our view.

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Friday, July 17, 2020

We left early on Friday morning as Mr. Waffle had a meeting in Dublin that afternoon. Quite honestly, it was one of the best holidays I have had. It was weirdly great not to have wifi. The house was really well set up for a family with every bit of kit you might need. The water and the kayaks were 100 metres away. The view was amazing and we all really needed a break. It was great to see my family. Notwithstanding work demands, I think everyone enjoyed it. Maybe we will go on holidays in July again.

Also, when we got home, our long awaited masks were in the hall. The postman had managed to get them though the letterbox so good news all round.

Plague Diary – Part XIV

29 June, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Travel

Monday, June 15, 2020

My sister sent us a care package – gifts for all! It was very thrilling. She sent me a new pair of very expensive headphones and they are complex to use but, ultimately, I expect to get on top of it.

It was my mother’s anniversary and I was a bit sad but alright really.

My little niece in London was three and her mother assured us that she liked the books we sent. She herself wasn’t entirely prepared to commit herself.

I had written a letter to my friend in America a while ago and she rang me to thank me for it and we chatted and she asked whether we were still going on holidays to America this summer. We are not (€5,000 in flights which, I fear, we will never get back, so bitter – I may have covered this previously – at least we got our accommodation money back, I suppose). She asked whether we would like to go to their summer house in Kinsale in July as, for obvious reasons, they are not going themselves this year. I decided that yes, we would. We are still tussling over payment; she refuses to accept any, Mr. Waffle insists, we’re at stalemate. Anyway, we’re going which is great, it’s a lovely house in Sandycove outside the town with beautiful views and adjacent Cork city. Hurrah. In other news, she and her husband are doctors and were fearing the worst in Vermont but she said that, somewhat to her surprise, it’s been fine there. So good for them.

Mr. Waffle went out to visit his mother for the first time since March. Nursing home visits are re-starting very slowly. She seemed ok but it was all a bit strange he said. He swung by his parents’ house which his brother is in the process of cleaning out and picked up an old round table which he thought would be good for the kitchen here. When he got it home, he reconstructed it in the utility room and it wouldn’t fit through the door to the kitchen so, now it lives there.

Herself got a notification that she was a finalist in an essay competition and was pleased.

Dan and I cycled to the re-opened public tennis courts after work. Dan was nearly hit by a speeding car (traffic is not yet back to normal and cars out and about are pretty speedy). It was so close that I actually felt physically ill afterwards and really wasn’t in form to play tennis which was just as well as all the courts were full and there was a big queue of people waiting to get on. We could really do with some extra cycle lanes round here.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My sister sent me a bunch of flowers for Mum’s anniversary but they only arrived today due to a mix up. My mother loved to have flowers in the house and so do I. I felt a bit tearful which was strange because the day before had been fine but it was the thoughtfulness of the flowers that did for me. Needless to say, I had sent her nothing.

I put them on my home office desk.

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My friend R who is now retired and puts in time in a charity shop in Ranelagh tells me that they have a complete set of the most recent version of the full Oxford English Dictionary (1989 apparently) in 20 volumes and unless someone buys it soon it’s going to be pulped. €300 or nearest offer, I understand. A bit tragic, but who has room for 20 volumes of dictionaries?

I showed Daniel a photograph of my bookclub and he said in surprise, “I had no idea that they were all so old.” Alas.

Herself finally went back to the orthodontist and he snapped off the piece of metal that has been gouging holes in the side of her mouth for the last three months. So a win on that front but she has been too assiduous in putting on her bands (apparently most people don’t follow direction and they allow for that, honestly) and now she has to undergo some other hellish process. Alas.

I overheard herself and Mr. Waffle speaking in the kitchen. She said, “Mum believes saints are everyone who goes to heaven and not just those identified by the church.” I called out from the other room, “And I’m right.” She said, “Well we’ll only really know if you’re right when we’re dead.” Hmm.

Today was Bloomsday. Having listened to the audio book earlier this year, I felt uniquely ready but it wasn’t really the year to show off my newly acquired knowledge.

Wednesday, 17 June, 2020

Mr. Waffle went into town and bought us a new magimix the old one having finally died after many years of faithful service. He said it was pretty weird in the shops.

My father was finally discharged from hospital so that evening after work, I drove to Cork to see him. I found packing strange after all these months of staying at home. I had a letter from my father’s GP saying he was pretty ill (to cover my travelling about 230kms beyond the permitted 20kms) but in the event, no one stopped me. It’s funny because you think everyone is out there living it up travelling all over the country but they’re not. There were hardly any cars on the Dublin-Cork road and most of the traffic was freight.

I arrived to Cork and helped my father to bed. I thought I could stay 2 metres away but that was completely unrealistic. He really needed help walking and getting in to bed and taking off his shoes (one of his big toes points up in the air, a side effect of stroke he told me, he knew what it’s called in Latin but I have forgotten) and I wasn’t really in a position to stand 2 metres away and say, “Good luck with that” as he keeled over. I did wear my mask though which was quite disastrous as he is very deaf and, at the best of times, finds it hard to hear. He was really quite unwell and a bit grumpy but it was very nice to see him all the same.

My brother (an enthusiastic cyclist) told me that he had cycled to Kinsale (about 30 kms away) on Tuesday. When he was just outside the town, his chain had broken. As he was walking along the side of the road, a friend of his from school passed, picked him up and gave him a lift back to Cork. I mean, what are the odds? Not sure whether it was entirely coronavirus compliant but what was he to do?

Thursday, June 18, 2020

I was jerked awake at regular intervals all night by Radio 4 which was on at top volume. I would drift off and then be woken up by a new voice on the radio. At 6 in the morning, I could stand it no longer and marched in to my father’s bedroom to turn it off. I forgot to wear my mask. He was delighted to see me as I could help him get up. I refused on the grounds that it was much too early. He accepted this but as I was leaving asked me to turn on the radio again. Largely a defeat then.

Later, I helped him up and, after giving him breakfast, ensconced my father in his armchair downstairs. I set up my home office in the dining room and he asked me to leave the door open into the drawing room. “I like to hear the voices.” “Of course,” I said. I was summoned at regular intervals to do things – find glasses, find tissues, find his wallet. I was also quite busy at work and I had a whole new appreciation of what my brother and sister in Cork have to deal with.

I particularly enjoyed the moment when I was having a meeting and he summoned me. “I told you I was in a meeting, Dad,” I said grumpily. “But I didn’t hear you talking,” said he, utterly unfazed.

At lunch time I went into the market in Cork to buy the wherewithal for my favourite ham sandwich. It felt pretty much like usual, maybe a bit emptier and there was someone regulating the flow of people in and out, and a lot more perspex than previously.

In the late afternoon, I persuaded my father to have a ham sandwich too. “He won’t have dinner now,” said my brother gloomily. I was amazed but my brother turned out to be quite right. My poor father, he has got so thin and frail. This is 95, I suppose. Good ham sandwich though.

That evening the internet went down. I rejoiced because my father was unable to listen to his internet radio. I am sorry but there it is.

Friday, June 19, 2020

I worked away until early afternoon and then took my half day. My morning was interrupted by regular requests from my father next door. My favourite being when I was on to a colleague asking about some work she was doing and he summoned me. I said I’d call her back and went in to him, “Is that someone who works for you?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “Should you not be more formal and firm?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I said. He said, “I heard you ask whether she had holiday plans.” Dear God in heaven. “I thought it was an emergency,” I said grumpily, “you’re like the boy who cried wolf.” “Well,” said my father, “he was right once.” Later, I was on to another colleague and she said, “Anne, sorry but is that ‘The Archers’ playing very loudly in the background?” This working from home lark can be a bit of a strain.

I spent some time talking to my father about family history. The only new piece of information he gave me was that his father had been called, “Copper”. His father died when my father was 10 and he had no idea why he had this nickname. He had just overheard someone point him out as “Copper’s son”. A mystery.

I visited my 90 year old aunt in the afternoon, mask at the ready. She was not keen on the mask. “Are you worried about getting coronavirus?” she asked. “No, I’m worried about giving it to you.” She was unconvinced and persisted in trying to get me to take off my mask. I resisted. I wished her a happy birthday for the following day when she would turn 91. “It’s a great age,” she said happily (she’s in such good nick), “although your father is 95 and he was always delicate as a child.” Just goes to show. “Do you have any idea why your father was nicknamed ‘Copper’?” I asked her. “Yes, he had red hair.” I mean who knew? There’s a mystery resolved for my father after many years.

There were some extra bikes in the shed in Cork, not as healthy as they might be but my sister encouraged me to take them back to Dublin with me for repair and passing on to the boys as as they are far too big for their own bikes.

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I said farewell to my elderly relatives really, really glad I had seen them and hopeful that I had not infected them coming as I did from plague infested Leinster. My sister and I went for a short walk and then I hopped into the car to go home.

I was welcomed at home with the kind of enthusiasm I thought was gone for ever. The kind of enthusiasm that small children have for their parents. They all ran into the hall to hug me. Very gratifying. The shed in Dublin is now bike central.

I was home just in time for cinema night, we had been told that we would move to Phase 3 on June 29. I’m getting a bit confused about what phase involves what and when they begin and end but rejoicing etc. and good news that real GAA training begins July 1. We had “I, Tonya” for cinema night and it was very good but something lighthearted would be welcome.

Saturday, June 20, 2020

My sister rang me to tell me that my father fell over soon after I left the house in Cork. He seems to be ok but a bit shaken. I wouldn’t really call it a great omen.

My aunt’s 91st birthday; I got her a subscription to Slightly Foxed. Let us hope that she likes it and remembers that I am the donor.

Daniel and I had zoom GAA. He did his reps, I did the zooming. We are old hands at this stage. Mr. Waffle has done some kind of online training for GAA parents to ensure they understand social distancing for the return to real training.

I got a notification from my Sunday afternoon bookclub that our hostess was considering a real live meeting on July 16. I was filled with delight.

As well as the bikes, I took from Cork my mother’s toasted sandwich maker bought in Brittany about 40 years ago. It has served us faithfully since but they don’t use it much in Cork any more so I asked to bring it to Dublin. Still an excellent piece of kit. Behold the toasted egg sandwich; our own invention.

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Herself went out to a friend’s house. The portrait of the children arrived. I still don’t love it. Alas. Oh well. It started to feel like life was really getting back to normal.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

It was actual Father’s Day. The children made cards for their father but actual presents after the previous weekend’s efforts were thin on the ground. He didn’t seem to mind. It was the longest day of the year. The weather was beautiful. We went out to Howth. The traffic was bumper to bumper but we got there eventually. I made them listen to Bagatelle in the car because I am determined to pass on my irremediably uncool musical tastes to my children. We swam in the sea (well, three of us did, Michael and Mr. Waffle resisted) and it was a lovely, lovely afternoon.

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Monday, June 22, 2020

Busy day at work again. Herself went to a party that evening for her friend’s 18th. Five people only she assured me but I felt a bit unsure whether this was a good idea although within the rules. I had my Monday night bookclub via zoom and suggested tentatively that our next meeting might be in the flesh but this was vetoed. I felt a bit chastened.

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Yet another trying day at work. Daniel went out to play basketball with a friend which he really enjoyed. It feels like maybe the beginning of the end.

We spent all dinner talking about flags of the world. I am not a flag fan. They children all know a lot about flags. I blame their father.

Mr. Waffle and I looked at holiday homes in Ireland for August. There are none.

Mr. Waffle bought a book from a German academic publisher. They love their titles.

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Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Yet another immensely trying day in the salt mines. It may be for this reason that I ate them all at lunch time because the dish washer had not been unloaded and reloaded. This is the children’s task and it is pretty much constant.

Daniel had his last Wednesday night zoom training. We rejoice.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

After my grumpiness the previous day, Daniel was up at 9 unloading the dishwasher. I felt a bit guilty but, you know, pleased that the dishwasher was unloaded.

Saintly Mr. Waffle has spent the week wrestling with the children’s online school book purchasing website. He finally got past the impressive obstacles put in his way and next year’s school books have been bought.

Daniel made us all pizza for dinner and we had it in the garden as the weather was fine and it all felt festive and holiday like and after dinner we played cards which was fun too. It was a nice evening towards the end of a tough week.

Friday, June 26, 2020

I talked to my Cork friend in Brussels by video call. A big corona virus dividend the video calling with friends abroad.

The children had their second last zoom call with their French language tutor who has been coming live from Paris twice a week – we promised it would finish end June so next Tuesday is the absolute last day. I think both they and the tutor really welcome this but it has worked pretty well.

Later, I went into town with herself to pick up an elaborate breakfast we had ordered which we planned to serve the following day.

We went to the bread shop to get bread but they were sold out. However, they gave herself a free bun so not a dead loss.

Mr. Waffle made sourdough bread but it was…unsuccessful. One of our lessons of lock down may be that home made sourdough is not for us.

Meanwhile Daniel had a first piano lesson with a neighbour up the road. His uncle who is a very good piano player has a keyboard he can lend him and he can practice on that. He’s quite excited. Please let us not speak of the reasons we do not have a piano.

After the success of the previous evening, I decided we would eat out again and stuck some burgers on the barbecue and dispatched herself and Mr. Waffle to the vegan chipper nearby for some suitable treats. By the time they came back, it was lashing and we had to cart everything back in again. Alas.

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All the details of what phase 3 would involve were published, it feels like almost back to normal though not quite.

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The Greens agreed to go into government and we finally have a new government after months of negotiations. V excitingly we have a Cork Taoiseach for the first time since 1979. Some mild local colour at the link for Cork enthusiasts.

Herself had a zoom session to hear whether she had won the essay competition but, alas, she had not. Oh well, she gets a goodie bag for being a finalist so there’s that.

After a day of many excitements, we sat down to watch “The Blues Brothers” for cinema night. Cast of thousands. V. successful.

Saturday, 27 June, 2020

I was so grumpy. Inexplicably so. I think perhaps it’s because we’re entering a new phase of what the French call “déconfinement” and I’m not quite sure what comes next.

Herself put together our breakfast and it was excellent.

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I went out and picked rubbish with the neighbours for an hour or so. The grabber I got for my birthday (still a weird present choice) proved very useful. It lashed on us. Middle aged delights.

My saintly husband felt I might need to get out, so we cycled into town and then signed up for the new electric bike hire service. We picked up a couple of bikes and whizzed around the city centre delighted with ourselves. Not as good on the uphill as we might have hoped and a bit expensive but pretty good fun all the same. And then we had takeaway tea and a bun outside. Food served and made by someone else. The excitement. Also, some cygnets in Stephen’s Green.

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My sister told me that Cork local radio has nothing on but profiles of the new Taoiseach. When I was in Cork, I asked my father if he had ever met the last Cork Taoiseach, Jack Lynch. Apparently once on the train shortly after Jack Lynch became Taoiseach and he walked up and down the train shaking hands with all the passengers.

Sunday, 28 June, 2020

As we get ready to move into phase 3, it really feels like the end of an era. I know colleagues with small children can send them back to childcare on Monday and I think it’s going to make things a lot easier though I expect that there will be a side order of guilt with that.

It was a breezy, blustery day and, aside from a short walk outside, it feels like Mr. Waffle and I spent all day looking for holiday accommodation in Ireland. There is almost none. We have one week in August booked. This does not much of a holiday make, I have to tell you. More searching to follow.

And tomorrow, I’m in to the office in town for the first time since the end of March. It feels so strange. I won’t be going back every day from now on but much more regularly, I imagine.

And next week, my menfolk are finally getting their hair cut.

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And there’s a second Cork Taoiseach – here he is having a walk around in his constituency. There are definitely some people in the crowd who are not of his political persuasion but, a Cork Taoiseach is a Cork Taoiseach.

Probably a good moment to end the plague diary for the moment.

Do you feel that it’s over or is this only the calm before the second storm?

Plague Diary – Part I

21 March, 2020
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Travel

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

It was my birthday on March 10 and I had a post ready to go on the day but the internet swallowed it. Alas. It was reasonably quiet as Mr. Waffle was busy and we were off skiing at the weekend (hollow laugh). We went out to Portrane for a peaceful walk along the coast.

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We had a cup of tea in the hotel at the end of the walk. Much social distancing but still very much open.

Michael bought me an enormous bouquet of flowers. I was really touched. He went out on his bike to get them while I was taking herself to the dentist to get her braces tightened (fortuitous timing in retrospect). I think he was a bit surprised by the cost of flowers but he bore it bravely.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

All still pretty normal. My father was transferred to an orthopedic hospital which was very welcome but somewhat surprising.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

The Taoiseach announces schools, pre-schools and colleges are to close. My children are ecstatic.

One of our neighbours put a leaflet in the door offering to do shopping for older people and asking for volunteers to help out. Herself signed up and joined the Whatsapp group. For the moment it appears to be all willing volunteers and no one wanting our services but I suppose that may change.

Friday, March 13, 2020

We cancel our skiing holiday. Aer Lingus lets us change our booking at no cost. We book to go to Rome for a week in October. Fingers crossed. This doesn’t seem like a triumph but by the time my brother-in-law goes to re-book his flights, there seems to be some glitch on the website and he has to spend six hours on hold to the Aer Lingus helpdesk so, could have been worse. We are claiming from insurance for the chalet cost but Mr. Waffle is only moderately optimistic that it will be refunded.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

I drove down to Cork to visit my father in hospital. Normally I get the train but I decided, in the circumstances, that public transport probably wasn’t my best option. France closed the ski resorts. Too late for me. My brother, in Tignes, managed to pick up a flight home from Lyons on Tuesday for €1,000. Maybe the airlines won’t go under after all. I spent all of the three hour drive to Cork listening to Coronavirus podcasts. In retrospect, probably a mistake. My father was absolutely delighted to see me. When I arrived, he was gloomy and downcast and said that it was just as well I had come because he was probably going to die (he is normally not like this at all and appears to believe that he will live forever notwithstanding evidence to the contrary) but by the time I left an hour later he was laughing and cheerful. I was pleased I had come. His eyesight is so bad that he can’t read other than with a special light. He can’t listen to the radio unless the volume is deafening. I spoke to the nurse and she said I could bring in his lamp. I was a bit surprised but pleased.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

There was no mass. It was extremely odd. I went in to visit my father who was much more his normal self and only mildly pleased to see me which, in its own way, was a relief. I had cleaned his standard lamp with antibacterial spray (probably no harm in any event) but when I arrived in to the hospital with it clutched in my arms, I was told it couldn’t be let in which wasn’t entirely surprising but I did wish that they had told me the same thing the previous day. After visiting my father, I drove back to Dublin and listened to another three hours of Coronavirus podcasts. Probably peak panic.

Monday, March 16, 2020

My father’s hospital closed to visitors. I was doubly glad I had gone down at the weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I have been so keen to get into work. Once there, it was mostly logistics, getting any remaining outliers set up to work from home and agreeing various protocols. A lot of people were on leave anyhow as it was the Monday before a bank holiday and many of the rest were already set up to work from home. It was pretty empty.

At dinner, I asked, what we were all going to do in quarantine. Herself said that Shakespeare had written King Lear in quarantine. Setting the bar good and high for us all.

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Undoubtedly the oddest St. Patrick’s Day I have ever had. No parades, obviously. I woke up the children by going around the house singing, “Hail Glorious St. Patrick” which was poorly received. I announced that we were going to climb a mountain in Wicklow and get some use out of the hiking boots we had bought for skiing. Also reasonably poorly received.

It was nice all the same though.

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Since all the cafes were closed, I decided that we would take a picnic. We got a lovely picnic basket when we got married (great wedding present, if you’re looking for inspiration) but it is quite heavy so it only works for picnics where you picnic near the car, if you see what I mean. By the time we got back to the car after our walk to have our picnic the weather had clouded over a bit and we drove around looking for a handy state forest with a picnic table near the car park. We were all a bit hungry as well which is a dangerous time in family life. We drove into a forest car park, it wasn’t ideal but we went into the trees and I spread out the picnic blanket. Herself suggested that I move it away from the barbed wire. It didn’t rain but it was bleak. The vibe was more Von Trapp family fleeing the Nazis across the Alps than memorable fun day out. This picture fails to convey the utter bleakness of the event (barbed wire just out of shot).

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By the time we had unpacked the picnic Michael and herself had already scampered back to the car clutching a bag of crisps each. Daniel stayed on like a trooper and Mr. Waffle and I each clutched a cup of tea from the thermos like drowning sailors who have been recently hauled from the water. I think we have to call it a failure, sadly. I tried to sell it as a bonding experience but the punters weren’t convinced.

The Taoiseach made an address to the nation that evening and I made the children watch. Michael said, “Gosh, these are historic times, somebody could have to write about living through this in the history exam in the future; I could be a person in history (this seems to be a question where they are asked to imagine they are a person living through say, the 1916 Rising or World War II and so on).” It might even be true, I suppose. I pointed out to him that my blog might be original source material for future history students and he said, “Poor them”. You wouldn’t want to be overly sensitive.

My brother got home from France safely and took himself off into self-isolation.

We always do the shopping online on Tuesday night for delivery on Thursday. It turns out we should have planned that a bit earlier. There were no online delivery slots to be had at all. We’ve signed up with a new supermarket which offered the 27th as its earliest delivery slot. Alas.

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

The first day with all five of us at home. It was very odd. The children were in their rooms; I was in the study and Mr. Waffle set up camp in the utility room. I was impressed by the work technology and surprised and pleased at how much we were able to get done. I was also impressed by the children, they had work to do from their teachers and they set to and started doing it.

Daniel and I made bread. We were very proud of ourselves. We finished the strong white flour.

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I went out to get more flour from the supermarket. I tried four supermarkets, social distancing the while, but there was no flour to be had. At the rate things are going, it looks like this may be the case indefinitely. I am hoping that we may get some from our online delivery on March 27 but who knows? Did I think we were a nation of bakers? I did not.

Generally, I seemed to be driving the children crazy with my incessant questions about their study routines and asking them whether they had got enough exercise but I felt this was better than their father’s lax regime which would let them stay in bed until lunchtime.

My friend in Paris and I agreed that Daniel would not be travelling to them for Easter. I am now playing chicken with Aer Lingus and hoping that they will cancel the flight and give us a refund. We will see.

Thursday, March 19, 2020

It was Mr. Waffle’s 50th birthday. Poor Mr. Waffle. What an awful way to have to spend a big birthday. We were supposed to be off skiing and I’d booked us in to a nice Michelin starred restaurant for dinner in Tignes. Instead he was stuck at home on lock down. I had bought him a voucher for a rather expensive wine tasting course to be held over May, June and July which now may never happen and I am worried that I may never get my money back. It was a pretty poor present in the time of plague lock down.

We made him pancakes for breakfast. I insisted that he work in the study and I took the utility room which was fine except when one of my colleagues asked me during a video conference meeting whether I was stockpiling Rice Krispies for the apocalypse. I mean, maybe. These were low level treats for a 50th birthday, I feel.

I made French onion soup for lunch and an elaborate stew for dinner as well as the standard issue family birthday cake and between that and work being pretty busy, I was exhausted by the end of the day. I’m not sure that working from home is all it’s made out to be.

Still, we did our best for dinner, we got the good cutlery out and we gave the cut crystal glass ware I got from a friend an outing and we sang happy birthday and we’re all healthy so, he could have it a lot worse, I suppose.

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Still driving the children crazy by inquiring about their study routines and forcing them outside for exercise.

Friday, March 20, 2020

I was on a half day and went into the office in the morning to pick up some papers and do some work that couldn’t readily be done at home. While I was there, a cleaner came and washed my door handle and light switch three times. Work is pretty deserted and it is very easy to maintain social distance and I cycled in and out. So, ok, I think but it is very hard to know what’s acceptable.

In any event, the children really welcomed the absence of their mother, however temporary. Cunningly, I had arranged for them to be on Skype with their French tutor (currently on lock down in Paris) on Friday morning from 9.30 to 11.00 so they felt my presence, even in my absence.

Daniel, Mr. Waffle and I played tennis in the afternoon. There are three public courts in the park near us. One was occupied by people playing tennis. The other two were occupied by people playing football: four young men in one case and parents with small children in the other. I passively aggressively started playing on the grass verge nearby to no avail. An Italian woman with two young children came up and I said, “There’s no point looking bitter because it won’t make any difference.” The parents then said, “Come on children, we’d better go, we’re getting the evil eye.” And I felt like a heel. Worse, I think I was a heel. The Italian woman then, fearlessly, went up to the four lads, told them it was a tennis court and not for football, and they could play football anywhere and they just meekly packed up and left to play elsewhere. I was very impressed.

My sister contacted me to say that there was a case of Coronavirus on my father’s ward. The story moved around a bit and I am still not clear whether the patient was in the room he was in or not. In any event, he is not being tested as he is asymptomatic which is good, I suppose. We’re all a bit nervous. My sister has been talking to him a bit and she says he is good form. He is not answering my calls. Unclear whether this is because he’s screening my calls or not getting to the phone on time.

Mr. Waffle turned up in the kitchen with our Seanad voting papers and we dutifully voted; a plague is no excuse for forgetting to vote.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Still no word from my father. He’s talking to my sister though and he seems fine. Keep your fingers crossed. I thought we might need to self-isolate after visiting him but apparently not.

Otherwise, not a great deal achieved. Herself has decided to paint the ceiling of her bedroom during the pandemic. We got her paint.

How are things in your pandemic location?

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