belgianwaffle

All Quiet on the Western Front

26 September, 2021 1 Comment
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess

Monday, September 20, 2021

I had lunch with a friend whose Dutch mother-in-law had saved for me a copy of Royals magazine which had a special on Máxima’s 50th birthday. It was saved for me through Covid, flown in specially from the Netherlands by my friend and then I left it behind me in the pub where we met for lunch. Gutted.

I stepped down as treasurer of the parents’ council. I am ecstatic.

I saw on the internet that Françoise Bernard has died (at the ripe old age of 100). My mother loved her book “Les Recettes Faciles” and used it all the time. Someone posted a picture of it on the internet and it really brought me back to my childhood. As far as I know, it is still in my parents’ house. Like everything else.

Tuesday, September 21, 2021 – Autumn Equinox

My sister is anxious that the boys, whose 16th birthday is on Monday, send her some indication of what they might like as presents. Michael is particularly hard to buy for. He sends her an email saying: “I appreciate that it must be very difficult to shop for someone with few material desires.” Where to begin?

As a lockdown project, Mr. Waffle started sending birthday greetings into a whatsapp group of people he did a European masters with in Belgium many years ago. He has their year book in hard copy (that was the only kind of year book available in the early 90s). One of the surprising things to emerge is a man who says that he lied about his birthday because he wanted to celebrate during term time. People are odd. Anyhow, lockdown is over but Mr. Waffle’s work as the pan-European birthday fairy continues.

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Our new French conversation woman came to the house. She was greeted with resignation rather than enthusiasm by the boys but look, good enough. I hope that it works out. At least it will be in person rather than online so I hope it goes a bit better than last year. I’m quite pleased with my wheeze of putting up paper ads in the student accommodation and local shops to find someone even though it felt very 20th century.

Over dinner I said when linking two fascinating items of conversation, “to segue seamlessly”. “Did you just pronounce that ‘seg‘?” asked herself. “I did,” I said. “It’s an Italian word not a French one, it’s pronounced “segway” like the yoke,” she said while laughing hysterically. I am flabbergasted. I have checked since with friends and colleagues; I am the only one who has fallen into this error. Alas. Still I am now among the enlightened. As my Nana used to say, “you are never too old to learn”.

Thursday, September 23, 2021

Dan and Michael got their second vaccine dose. Daniels’s bike gave up. We had rescued it from the shed in Cork during lockdown when bikes were hard to come by but it was always a bit sub-optimal. I think it might possibly have been my father’s last bike before he gave up cycling in his 80s.

Friday, September 24, 2021

Poor Michael was sick as a dog after his vaccine and stayed home from school but Dan was fine. Herself got her hair cut.

I found myself at a bit of a loose end on Friday evening for the first time in as long as I can remember. Michael was sick in bed. Daniel and his father had gone to a football match.

Herself was packing for her weekend in Edinburgh (she’s visiting a friend). She was singing “La Vie en Rose” to herself and as the house was so uncharacteristically silent, it floated clearly down the stairs. I will miss hearing her sing around the house.

My brother revealed that he will be in Dublin a day or two a week from October and will be staying with us unless that doesn’t suit. I said that we will give it a go and see how it goes; I am a little dubious. I am tidy, he is not. If I arrive down in the morning to find his dirty dishes in the sink, this may not work for us. However, I suspect it will be temporary as either he will move to Dublin full time or find another job in Cork. We will see. I believe my sister thinks I might go insane. She might be right.

Saturday, September 25, 2021

Mr. Waffle took herself to the airport at the crack of dawn. Michael was recovered, in celebration, I took him to the Beuys exhibition in the Hugh Lane gallery. To be honest, neither of us loved it. Daniel had a football match. Apple season continues unabated.

Having announced to the family that it is impossible to make apple jelly that doesn’t set, I proceeded to make a batch that failed to set. Pride comes before a fall etc.

My sister drove to Valentia in Kerry with a friend with a view to taking a long-planned trip to Skellig Michael on the following day. The boat was cancelled due to inclement weather, alas. Still she sent me a nice photo from Valentia.

Sunday, September 26, 2021

Another sermon about climate change at mass which also touched on the 7 deadly sins, haven’t heard about them in a good while. The archbishop has written a pastoral letter (on climate change rather than the 7 deadly sins) which we are encouraged to buy for €2.50. I’m unsure about that investment. My attention drifted during the prayers of the faithful and I was startled to hear the priest expressing gratitude for teapots. I mean, I am grateful, more practically grateful than for other things that we may be grateful for during the prayers of the faithful but it struck me as… unusual. The priest remarked that he worked in England for 30 years, perhaps this was part of it?

Daniel and Michael had a couple of friends over to eat pizza and play board games to celebrate their birthday. Daniel managed to use the projector to put an x-box game on the big screen. We have been using the projector for film night for 18 months or so at this stage. We bring in a whole shelf of dictionaries to stand the projector on. Daniel put it at an angle on one small paperback and it projected perfectly. As his father said, “That light and optics physics course we sent him on was definitely worth it.” I feel a bit foolish.

Mr. Waffle and I went off to the other side of the city where we had a cup of tea, visited his mother and went for a mild walk in the rain. More appealing than it sounds.

I can’t believe that Angela Merkel is leaving us. The boys weren’t even 2 months old when she first became Chancellor and they will be 16 tomorrow. She has been there all their lives. I know politicians are often more popular abroad than at home but I thought she was amazing and I am sorry to see her go; it’s truly the end of an era.

Just Another Day for You and Me in Paradise*

19 September, 2021 3 Comments
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 foolish 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?

Updated to add: they did 68kms of their 70. Not bad!

Re-entry

13 September, 2021 2 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

I went to the GP about my heel. She confirmed my internet researches. I have plantar fasciitis which is a condition common to runners and fat middle aged people. Alas. The GP said to me that I’d never be able to run again. Startled, I said, “Never? Will I not be able to play tennis?” “Ah, no, I meant you won’t be able to run marathons.” That’s ok then.

Anyway, it seems that loads of people have it – friends, colleagues all sorts of people. Maybe I wasn’t listening when they complained. I went out to a specialist running shop and bought the vilest pair of runners which I now wear all the time. Sigh. Apparently it will get better eventually.

Mr. Waffle had to work. I took the boys to visit the state apartments in Dublin Castle, the Chester Beatty museum and the sandcastle exhibition in the castle yard. God love them, they put up with a lot.

My sister called me to tell me that the husband of my mother’s best friend from college had died. He hadn’t been well but it was still a shock.

Wednesday, August 25, 2021

My first day back in the office after the holidays. Very painful but I survived. Two colleagues described how their holidays had been ruined by Covid. The more impressive example had each of his four children come down with it in turn keeping him housebound sorting his books for the fortnight instead of going to Donegal. In fairness, we were lucky.

Saintly Daniel made dinner.

Thursday, August 26, 2021

I went to the funeral of my mother’s friend’s husband. It was the first funeral I had been to since my father’s (in Ireland funeral going is a pretty constant duty so it was unusual not to have been to one in so long but Covid rules forbade). The deceased was a dentist, his wife was a dentist and both the priest’s parents were dentists so it was a funeral heavy in dental content.

Herself and her friend went for a night cycle in the park; what will they think of next etc.? I was a bit nervous and sent Mr. Waffle to accompany her to the gates of the park and then later home again. She had a great time but Mr. Waffle was less keen on the whole concept as he sat outside the park gates awaiting her return.

Friday, August 27, 2021

It was so warm I decided we would have a barbecue for dinner. By the time dinner rolled around it was freezing. I refer you to this article from the Irish Times on dressing for dining outside. I don’t think it was a joke.

Saturday, August 28, 2021

My sister was in Dublin for the weekend and came to us for lunch which we were able to have outside. It’s the nights catch you unaware, you’re generally safe enough for lunch. My children write thank you cards because I make them and I am hoping that they will continue to do so forever but it’s a bit of an uphill battle. They stayed in my sister’s partner’s parents’ house on Bere Island over the summer and wrote a thank you card (in Irish, the parents are Irish speakers). My sister gave great feedback. The mother is a poet and she was analysing the boys’ text – it’s like a mirror; different accounts from the right and the left hand. Honestly, this the kind of feedback, I need to justify the effort (my brother is always undermining me with unhelpful comments like “just send a text”).

We went on a boat trip in the afternoon and then a BBQ in the cousins’ house. Definitely packing everything in to the last weekend of summer. The boys were a bit like condemned men in advance of the return to school on Monday.

Sunday, August 29, 2021

My sister and I went to visit the dental widow. We had a surprisingly good time (given that her husband had just died) and the three of us are going to go on a trip to north Cork in the new year. Excitement.

It was the mother of all Sunday nights. I reintroduced logistics Sunday (we say what’s on for the week ahead, it’s complicated, we have a lot on). Herself caused considerable ire at the dinner table by saying blithely, “Oh is tomorrow Monday?”. She is enjoying her extended summer, thanks for asking.

Monday, August 30, 2021

I had lunch with a friend. I welcome the return of the lunch circuit. As she recoiled in horror at my hideous runners she said that she too had had plantar fasciitis. It’s everywhere, lads.

Herself went off to Dun Laoghaire to dine in Wetherspoon’s with her friends. The horror.

The boys found the first day back grand and, at least, the ice is broken.

Tuesday, August 31, 2021

My boss returned from his holidays. Sadly. Lunch out with a friend again. Mild thrills. Herself disappeared off to a distant suburb for a dinner party. I was supposed to collect her but couldn’t get hold of her. As I was sitting there worrying that she had been abducted/murdered etc. she called to stay that she was going to stay over at her friend’s house. She’s making up for lost time on the socialising front.

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

I was delighted to see herself for the first time in days. I suppose this is how it is now.

Thursday, September 2, 2021

I took the boys to get their first shot. The whole thing was a model of efficiency. They missed school too. They were delighted. And the woman who gave them the vaccine was from Cork; went to the same school as my aunt. Another exile in Dublin.

Friday, September 3, 2021

The boys experienced no side effects from the vaccine other than slightly sore arms. As covered elsewhere, herself got her Leaving Cert results and, in fairness to her, they were stellar.

We were notified by the school of the first Covid cases of the year in both students and staff; we’re not quite back to normal yet. We’ve another road map anyhow.

I had my root canal. Not as bad as it might have been.

Saturday, September 4, 2021

We took herself out for an early dinner in a nice restaurant to celebrate her Leaving results. It was booked in June so, honestly, it could have been a gloomier party than it was. The boys had pizza at home which I felt a bit bad about but they were not going to appreciate a set menu at €80 a head.

We got home quite early and I made everyone watch this French film which was supposed to be a comedy. I got free access to it from the Cork French film festival and I was determined to get value. It was quite dire. Herself and Daniel drifted off to bed in despair. Michael stayed to the end. He felt it had some interesting themes about the value of philosophy to politics. It was a film which could only have been made in France. May I say that the description makes it sound much better than it actually is.

Sunday, September 5, 2021

A day of homework for the boys. Herself went out with friends and Mr. Waffle and I went into town. All of us were slightly gloomy at the prospect of the week ahead except for herself who is having the time of her life. This is wearing on the rest of us on a Sunday night.

Monday, September 6, 2021

Work is a bit wearing at the moment. I am making lots of apple jelly. What will I do with it all?

Tuesday, September 7, 2021

Work horrors.

Wednesday, September 8, 2021

Further work horrors. And, worse, yet another meeting of the baptism preparation group at 7.30 in the evening – I went straight from work to this excitement. Our parish priest is driving me crazy. “Would it be handier,” he mused, “to have baptisms on Saturday afternoons?” Not to any of the group of (women, of course) who are sitting around the table. Even the mildest and saintliest of us (not me) remonstrated slightly saying, “Well father, if we’re hoping that they will continue to go to Sunday mass after the baptism, it’s not a great sign if they can’t even make the baptism on a Sunday.” He conceded the point. I would love to bail out but I feel that I can’t as it will just be more work for the others. Sigh.

Herself has been pushing to cycle alone in the city at night. Usually I collect her from things after dark and put her bike in the boot. But I suppose, she is 18 and about to move country and I had better resign myself to the inevitable. Honestly, I might as well have collected her as I sat up worrying until she came in anyhow.

Thursday, September 9, 2021

Work horrors continue unabated. We receive an email from the principal announcing that “Henceforth we will be a nut free school.” We are now looking for popcorn (a key part of Michael’s diet) made in a factory which does not contain nuts.

Herself disappears off to a party.

Friday, September 10, 2021

Work horrors slightly diminish but do not recede entirely. I end up working all Friday afternoon which is annoying when I am only paid to work 4.5 days a week. But yet, if I give it up, I will never get it back.

I went to the physio at lunch time. He prodded, he poked, he made me stand in weird ways. He said, “I don’t think you have plantar fasciitis.” He didn’t know what I had either though. He advised me to get heel gel pads and said to come back in a month if it wasn’t better. I feel a bit of a fraud but a slightly relieved fraud.

Mr. Waffle asked whether I planned to throw out the dead flowers. Did he mean the hydrangeas which I had dried and with which I was delighted? He did.

Saturday, September 11, 2021

I saw herself in daylight for the first time in days. We spent a long and painful session trying to decide how to bring her to England for college (boat and car, plane and train, plane and hire car?) and who will go with her (alone; one parent; two parents?). In the end we decided that both her parents would accompany her (her aunt kindly agreed to come up from Cork to mind her brothers) and we would fly and train. I have spent the time since reviewing that decision and I believe it is probably incorrect but I can’t face re-booking. Accommodation in a university town at the start of term is a nightmare and, of course, once we get there, I very much look forward to spending a day shopping for duvets, bedding and crockery. Furthermore, the university authorities have annoyed us all by emailing herself “As you are from within the UK…” I’d say there will be a certain amount of that over the coming years.

Mr. Waffle and I went out to breakfast. We met a neighbour who is making a film about the locality; would have thought it was a bit niche to be honest but he has funding and I, for one, will be very interested. As we were walking on the main road, an elderly lady called out to us, summoning us imperiously to her doorstep. “I need you to help me down the step,” she said. We did. “Now, I need you to walk me to the post office.” We did even though it was quite a bit out of our way but she had a firm grip on my arm and she wasn’t letting go. I thought we were going to have to wait for her outside the post office but she summarily dismissed us at the door and we scuttled off.

We met a mother we knew from the children’s primary school in the coffee shop. She was just out from eight (yes eight!) days in hospital. She had deep vein thrombosis and I think it nearly killed her. She was still black and blue all over and a bit shaken I thought. This reminded me of all the articles I keep reading in the papers about 50-60 being sniper alley and if you can get through that decade ok, you’ll live forever. That said, my father had open heart surgery aged 60 and lived to 95; so not a hard and fast rule.

As we were sitting over our breakfast, pondering mortality and flicking through the paper, Mr. Waffle nodded significantly out the plate glass window. There was our elderly lady perched upon the arm of a new victim who was patiently accompanying her home.

Herself and myself searched the house for her European Health Insurance card so that she could sign up for a GP in the UK. I looked where I felt it would be filed but no joy. Herself said, a bit pointedly, I thought, “So you can find whether I got a smiley face in 2007 through your complete records but my EHIC is missing.” We rang her father. It was in the travel box rather than the health folder. Look, accidents happen in even the best regulated filing systems.

Michael is doing history outside school as timetabling does not permit him to do all the subjects he wants in school. He had his first online class today and pronounced it satisfactory.

She went out to babysit for the film director we met earlier. I walked around the corner to pick her up and continued my chat about the local film he was making. She pinched me twice trying to get me to go home. Again, she is keen to travel alone but even though our house is only 5 minutes away, I didn’t like her coming home in the dark at 12.30. I suppose I will have to get used to this.

It was all-Ireland final day – Mayo v Tyrone. Mayo haven’t won since 1951 and at this stage the whole country is pretty much behind them. Our neighbour across the road is from Mayo. He went all out.

They were the bookies’ favourites but, alas, they lost. The (to be clear, entirely fictitious, I gather) curse lives on.

Sunday, September 12, 2021

It was the day of the street party. It was successful enough considering that it was September and a bit chilly and that Covid regulations meant that everyone had to bring their own food. The children used to love it when they were younger but now they are just too old and sophisticated. People were delighted to hear how herself had got on in the Leaving (yes, everyone is still asking, it is Ireland’s greatest rite of passage) and one of our older neighbours reminded us that he deserved credit for giving her his old desk (I had completely forgotten but he did).

Herself made blackberry financiers from a recipe in the paper. I will miss this service when she leaves. She had two egg yolks left over and I made hollandaise to use them up; I have never previously done this successfully and I was delighted with myself.

One of my colleagues has just texted me that his 4 year old, his 6 year old and he and his wife (both vaccinated) have all tested positive for Covid. We’re not out of the woods yet, are we?

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?

Into the West – Holidays Week 2

7 September, 2021 2 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Did you think that I wouldn’t finish my holiday post? Are you crazy?

Sunday, August 8, 2021

We drove to Sligo via the midlands. Can I tell you that there is nowhere, absolutely nowhere to get a cup of tea in Edgesworthstown (ancestral homeland of Maria Edgeworth whose family owned the local big house) on a Sunday afternoon? We were luckier in Longford and managed to get an outdoor lunch at 4 in the afternoon for which relief much thanks.

We arrived in Sligo in the evening. We had rented an Airbnb in the town just opposite the Catholic and Protestant cathedrals which were situated next door to each other on a bend in the road. It was a busy road and, as herself pointed out, with the faithful now being neither nimble nor sprightly, having to cross a busy road on a blind corner to get to church was likely to be fatal to many of the congregation.

Anyway, the house had four lovely double bedrooms. Sadly the kitchen was tiny and we could just all sit down there and there was a total of 6 knives, forks, spoons and plates. Clearly it was designed as a couples’ getaway but not, I think for a family group who were hoping to eat in occasionally. The front room was tiny also but we could all sit there, so fine. The children scattered to their bedrooms once they were clear on the wifi codes.

Here’s Michael looking like he’s 102 and has lived in the Airbnb all his life.

Monday, August 9, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out early to try to find a walking tour of the town. The tourist office was closed for Covid reasons and there didn’t seem to be enough tourists to justify any walking tours so we took ourselves off and had a good look around the town. It has a French gothic style court house which showed that the 19th century Office of Public Works architects were given their heads more than you might think.

A lot of law firms near the court house, naturally. This one is famous in certain circles.

Bram Stoker’s mother was born in Sligo.

It’s quite a big town with it’s own independent existence and clearly not largely dependent on tourism. Lots of old fashioned department stores which I very much liked. However, overall, there are two big ticket items the Sligo tourist people plug: WB Yeats and surfing. Honestly, a strong interest in one or the other, or, ideally, both, is recommended.

In the afternoon we went out to Standhill to have a swim. You are not allowed to swim in Strandhill. It’s basically reserved for surfers. Too dangerous for swimmers. Allegedly. So, onwards to Rosses Point where everybody swam except Michael. Quite chilly.

Herself got her second vaccine appointment for a couple of days before the end of the holiday. She decided that she would rather go home a bit early than try to change it for Cork. Alas. Still, great that she is to be vaccinated.

Tuesday August 10, 2021

Herself and myself drove out to Strandhill to this cafe which is much beloved by the Irish Times and surfing hipsters alike. I thought it was ok – avocado eggs end of things – but pretty pricey. Also run by very young women one of whom used a sweeping brush to clear off an outside table which I found sub-optimal. Great view though.

We took ourselves back to the town and had a wander. Lunch was a bit unsatisfactory. Outdoor dining was chilly, the food wasn’t great and the table umbrella was poorly placed.

You see here herself and Michael channelling the energy of the group.

We went to the Model which is the local gallery – lots of Jack Yeats (brother of the more famous WB), quite good but small. We dropped in to the local library. This is something I like to do everywhere I go. I would say that of all the libraries I have visited, Sligo is safest from Covid. There was no browsing at all and people had to ask at a plastic encased counter for the books they wanted. It seemed excessive.

Footsore (I developed a sore heel which was only getting worse, so much more of this anon), we returned to the house where saintly Michael made dinner, the other children disappeared to their rooms and Mr. Waffle and I began work on the obligatory holiday jigsaw.

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I had a lovely breakfast in Lyon’s, an old fashioned department store.

Later, herself and myself hit the town and bought her a range of lovely dresses in the old fashioned shops which are quite a feature of Sligo.

Also, a lot of banks and former bank buildings converted to other uses.

It reminded me of Cork in the 1980s and I quite enjoyed my trip down memory lane except my heel was sore.

We went for a family surfing lesson in Strandhill in the afternoon. Michael was the only one among us who managed to stand up on his board. I mostly felt like Wally the Walrus as I heaved myself up onto the board and failed to catch any waves. Surfing is a lot harder than it looks but we did have a good time.

We had failed to book anywhere for dinner which was a huge mistake and we ended up having the vilest pizza known to man in a bar by the river. I have to say the town was heaving for a Wednesday night in August.

I limped home afterwards, the combination of my sore heel and the surfing rendered me almost entirely immobile for the remainder of the evening.

I noticed herself was a bit freckly despite constant reapplications of suncream. “I know,” she sighed “but as [the physics genius in her class] pointed out to me, the light is still hitting my face as otherwise I would be invisible.” Good point, physics genius.

Thursday, August 12, 2021

I woke up stiff all over. Herself, Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast. We had no real plans for the day but after the previous day’s surfing, I offered to buy wetsuits for any child who wanted one. Herself and Michael expressed an interest and we went to a wetsuit superstore around the corner from the Airbnb. We got one for Michael but notwithstanding the startling array of choices there was nothing to fit herself. The owner commented gloomily that there was a world wide wet suit shortage due to the Corona virus and he couldn’t get the stock. Apparently, in the absence of anything else to do, the world is now buying wetsuits and swimming in the sea all year round.

I attempted to take my book back to the library and arrived at 4.50 to discover that it closed at 4.45. I mean, why?

Mr. Waffle and Daniel watched a soccer match and then all of us, bar Michael who resolutely refused to come, drove out to Rosses Point to lie on our backs in the sand dunes in the dark in the hopes of seeing the Perseid shower which had been promised. It is very dark in Sligo which is good, obviously, but it was also very cloudy which was less good. Still it was atmospheric lying on our backs, listening to the sea, and trying to spot the odd star through the cloud cover.

We finished the jigsaw. A triumph.

Friday, August 13, 2021

We were all rudely awoken by hammering and drilling in the house next door at 6 in the morning. I leapt from the bed (no mean feat given that I was still recovering from the surfing extravaganza) in the mistaken belief that one of the children was pounding urgently on the bedroom door. Very bravely, Mr. Waffle went next door and pointed out that it was a bit early for works. They agreed it was and said that they thought the house next door was empty. We all went back to bed.

Later, Mr. Waffle and I went back to Lyons to again sample their delightful breakfast, but, alas, it was closed due to a Covid outbreak. We went instead to a trendier though less satisfactory venue. We had a look around Mullaney’s Drapery which is bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside.

As well as meeting all your tweed needs, it boasts a travel agent and general drapery. I bought a tweed throw. I couldn’t help myself, I’ve reached the age when all my furniture is artfully draped with throws, so it won’t go to waste. Grand old chat with the salesman who told us that the Borneo teak doors dated from 1910: lovely curving art nouveau door handles remain in situ as well.

I dropped into the Yeats museum and there was this absolutely wonderful description of the cholera epidemic of 1832 in Sligo by Bram Stoker’s mother. It seems to have been terrifying. Well worth clicking and enlarging the image below for a read.

Also pretty amused by this description of the entertainment available on the Dublin stage in the late 1920s. I am more surprised than I can say, that it went over well with audiences.

That afternoon, herself and I drove to Lissadell but, alas, it was closed due to Covid. We pushed on to Mullaghmore which has a beautiful beach.

I had a lovely swim notwithstanding the slightly unusual warning notice on the approach to the beach. Sligo is full of surprises. And only 12km from Donegal. Who knew?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for our deferred 20th anniversary dinner that evening. The restaurant was nice and the food was nice. I mean, fine, nice, pleasant but not exceptional. I had the cheese board instead of dessert and I was served three pieces of small, slightly dull cheese for which we were charged €15 which struck me as excessive. In fact in general, I thought Ireland was an expensive place to holiday this year. Eating out, in particular, was expensive but the food was generally only alright. That said it was really difficulty to get in anywhere so I guess the restaurant and pub owners of Ireland know what they are doing.

Saturday August 14, 2021

We went back to Mullaney’s to get a tweed jacket for herself. Something that would last a lifetime. Sadly, they had nothing in her size. Sales have apparently been slow in the absence of Americans. However, the enterprising salesman was quick to pull out a picture of Taylor Swift in an Aran jumper as an inducement to the purchase of same (although he could not quite recall her name). We bought her an Aran jumper.

Mr. Waffle had been keen to climb up to a local landmark: an enormous neolithic tomb. I was a bit reluctant because of my sore heel but said I would give it a go. I was really glad I did. Firstly, it turns out that uphill is fine for my heel. Secondly, the views were magnificent and the tomb pretty impressive (and I speak as someone who as a child was dragged to every megalithic tomb in Munster and can identify a wedge shaped gallery grave from three fields away).

We parked in the fantastically named “Queen Maeve’s Grave Car Park”. Locally the tomb is associated with Queen Maeve. If you have been paying attention (look, I know you have), you will recall that we had been in Carlingford the previous week. This is on the Cooley peninsula where Queen Maeve undertook her famous cattle raid which is an integral part of her legend, so we were basically following her around.

Your correspondent enjoys an ancient monument:

After this early success, we went to Strandhill for lunch. Disastrous, the food was dear and mediocre and the weather was miserable for outdoor dining. We were not living the dream.

We hopped into the car and headed on to Galway which turned out to be a two hour drive away. Who knew that Sligo was so far from everywhere else? I would definitely go back though, it’s a very beautiful part of the world and quite underrated, I think.

Still glad to get to our hotel in Galway where we had booked a swim in the pool and then had the unmitigated thrill of indoor dining for the five of us for the first time on the holidays. The rules are elaborate but here’s a summary: fully vaccinated adults can eat indoors on production of a cert; children under 18 can eat indoors whether vaccinated or not; anyone staying in a hotel regardless of age or vaccination status can eat indoors. A complex compromise but a very welcome one as it was lashing and we did not fancy going around trying to find an outdoor dining venue.

Sunday August 15, 2021

Herself had a friend who was in Galway so she went off with him and his Galway friends for the day. Mr. Waffle, the boys and I wandered the quaint streets of the old town. Galway is lovely and very atmospheric but, I’ve noticed this before, there’s relatively little to do in the town unless you want to meet friends in a pub and listen to traditional music. We went to Spanish Arch, Galway’s most famous landmark, and the boys said, “Is this it?” This is fair, it’s a bit underwhelming. Galway is much more about strolling around and enjoying the general ambience but that is useless if you’re a 15 year old boy. On the plus side, as herself was off with friends, we were able to go indoors to Milano’s for lunch which the boys loved.

I booked us in to an escape room for the afternoon. It was a bit hard for us – generally we do reasonably well but we were pretty stumped and had to ask for a number of clues and I found it a bit dull as we waited around for enlightenment. On the plus side, we got good value for our money, as we stayed for ages and herself was pleased as she identified herself as the secret sauce which had helped us to triumph in the past.

We took ourselves back to the hotel for a swim and dinner mentally exhausted.

Stay tuned for the next installment where we go South.

A Life Online

3 September, 2021 8 Comments
Posted in: Princess

Herself was 18 on April 12. This is a belated birthday post. They almost always are.

I’ve been writing about her here since she was 8 months old. She featured in my first ever blog post.

I sometimes wondered about the wisdom of including all this information about her online. I really started the blog because we were living abroad; I was lonely at home alone with a small baby; and I wanted to let my family know how we were getting on.

And then I have a personality that likes to finish things. So I kept going. Long after every other blogger in the world moved on, here I am still updating away.

I feel insofar as herself is concerned, it’s mostly pretty harmless stuff. I wanted a record for her of what her life was like in the small ordinary ways. When she was very small, I remember Mr. Waffle saying, we will keep all her medical records perfectly and we have a paper record of every vaccine and booster she got, safely filed away. Mr. Waffle and I are both avid filers but I am the family archivist: the blog, the carefully printed and labeled photo albums. It’s like I am trying to stop the endless, remorseless march of time.

Here’s an early photo of herself – before the arrival of her brothers – with doggy proudly displayed. How she loved that toy. How many of them we had to find online and buy as replacements for those lost on our journeys to and from Brussels.

Then her brothers arrived. It was undoubtedly a shock to her system. One to which she continues to adapt.

From the very beginning her brothers looked up to her and she whipped them into line. She still does. She asserts their rights (and her own) against the oppressive dictatorship of her parents.

We came home from Belgium when she was five. Unlike her brothers, she retains memories of the Belgian school system and the flat where we lived. We put her straight into an Irish language school. She didn’t even know that English language schools were available, the poor mite. For years, she loathed Irish but something happened when she was about 13 or 14 and she started to love it. She is so good at it now and did all her exams through Irish which is no joke.

I moved heaven and earth to keep her French alive, having a series of French childminders so that she never lost touch with the language. We sent her to France for three months in Transition Year. Honestly, it nearly broke my heart to send her abroad for so long at only 15 but she loved it and her written French improved immensely. Through the placement programme she met children from all over the world and is still in touch with lots of them giving me live news from her friend in Argentina or Iceland or the US.

She always wanted to be away and independent. She longed to go to an Irish language boarding school in Dingle when she was 12 but we resisted.

She likes harder books than me now but I remember when she was about 10 or 11 she read Amy Chua’s tiger mother book. And then she read it again and again. Why she wondered was she not playing Carnegie Hall. I am a pretty competitive person though nothing compared to my mother. She spent a lot of time with my mother when we came back to Ireland and I can’t help wondering about that formative influence. I remember one of our childminders saying, “She frightens me a little, she is so small, she knows so much, and she is so smart.” She added application and single mindedness to her natural ability and the results are impressive.

And then she became an excellent and competent public speaker: announcing, debating, chairing every type of student council and organisation. She loves that kind of thing though sometimes I did wonder whether she bit off more than she could chew.

She never really liked sport much. She did a bit of horse riding on summer holidays over the years and played GAA for a season aged 6 but it would be hard to say that she was an enthusiast.

She quite liked skiing but it’s not really a sport that lends itself to regular outings, at least, not if you live in Ireland.

While she always cycled to school, since lockdown she has become a champion cyclist, going all over the city and heading off on 30-40km bike rides with her uncle over the summer.

Since she was very small, she’s been interested in cooking. She’s kept it up and added to her repertoire over the years. She’s a much better cook than I am and I feel we are sending her out into the world with excellent survival skills in this regard.

She became a vegetarian when she was about 14. I was horrified. But she stuck to her guns. She usually does. I remember telling her irately that vegetarians have to eat vegetables. And she did, she expanded her diet beyond all recognition. I still regret that she cut out meat though but she is nothing if not determined.

I’m very glad we brought her back to Ireland when we did as she got a chance to know her grandparents. Three of her four grandparents have died since June 2019 and her fourth grandparent is in a nursing home with dementia. I love that she got to know them before they became ill. My mother was one of her greatest fans and she was a source of endless delight to my mother, even as my mother became more and more unwell from Parkinson’s disease.

One of the many things I like about her is how very funny she is. She is the most entertaining company. I love to talk to her.

She gives good advice as well and is insightful about problems. She has a mind like a steel trap and never forgets anything. She is inside my head. She always knows what I think about everything and what I am thinking at any given moment. This can be handy but is also a little unnerving.

Many, many years ago, before I had even met Mr. Waffle, I remember talking to a friend about having children and the pros and cons. She said to me, “You don’t want to have children, you just want to create adults to chat to.” A bit harsh but there might be something in it.

I feel so sorry for all the young people and the years that have been taken from them by Covid. Herself was 16 when it started, just about to turn 17.

She had such a great social life with friends from school and all friend she had met on courses and committees. She loved going out in the city centre. Wherever we went in Dublin, she seemed to run into friends and then abruptly it was all taken from her. She was so stoic. It was hard.

And then all the uncertainty about school closures and examinations. As part of her ongoing plan to leave home, she decided she wanted to go to college in England. She was offered a place which was an arduous process in itself but then she had to do really well in her exams to be able to take it up. The exams mostly went very well but Physics presented some problems. I wasn’t sure she was going to get what she needed. It seemed very unfair but a part of me thought it would be good for her to stay in Ireland. I know in England and the US, students mostly go away for college but in Ireland they mostly stay at home. And I hadn’t quite bargained for her going away.

She got her Leaving Cert results today. One of the nice things about this is that its such a big deal in Ireland that everyone knows. Loads of people contacted me to wish her luck. She did really, really well – better than both her parents who, may I tell you, were no slouches – and has more than safely secured her place in England. My mother would have been so thrilled; that was the first thing I said to herself and the first thing my sister said to her as well.

I am delighted for her, I really am. It’s going to be great. I have every confidence in her ability to live alone and manage swimmingly. She is going to love studying in college; she’s made for it. I have no worries about her, none at all.

No, it’s me, I’m worried about. I am just not quite ready for her to leave home. Who will read my mind now? She’s emigrating at the end of the month and, no, I’m not ready but she really is.