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Archives for March 2022

Tempus Fugit


Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Work

I remember when I was an apprentice solicitor (neither today nor yesterday, my friends) one of my other apprentice friends met her master’s children when they were brought into the office for a thrilling look at the office machinery and to see where their Mum and Dad worked.

“Imagine,” said my friend to me, “they will just grow up with the fax, it will never seem strange or new to them.” We marvelled. It did not cross our minds that by the time those children were pushing 40 the fax would be a thing of the past. I remember one of the partners in my office had a computer on his desk and was gently mocked by the other partners for his dedication to this glorified typewriter which took up so much space on his desk and was clearly pointless.

But yet, the 90s doesn’t really seem very long ago at all. Related: have you noticed that the policemen really are getting younger?

Property Ladder


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Work

A younger colleague of mine told me that she has bought a house. She is in her late 20s and has been living at home with her parents since leaving school and saving diligently. I mean I applaud her and I’m delighted for her and it is always hard to buy on your own (as opposed to with a partner), but I can’t help comparing it to my own experience. I thought it was pretty hard at the time but really it was easy for me to move out of home and rents were pretty cheap and there were lots of places where I could rent and still save up a bit (if only I had been more frugal – it was not my nature, good job I met Mr. Waffle saver by nature). I’m not sure I would really have wanted to live at home until I was 30 and I didn’t have to.

She is the only colleague I know under 30 who has bought her own house. It does not augur well, I feel. I do wonder how my children are going to find somewhere to live in due course if things keep going as they are. I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Reading etc.


Posted in: Reading etc.

Just Like You by Nick Hornby

God, I found this a bit tedious. Older white middle-class woman, younger black working-class man and their relationship. It could have been insightful but I did not find it so. I didn’t find it funny either which was my expectation for a Nick Hornby book. To be fair, I’m not sure it was meant to be funny.

The Ministry of Bodies by Seamus O’Mahony

I quite enjoyed this. It’s a, now retired, doctor’s slightly cynical account of life in Cork’s largest hospital. I recognised a couple of the characters which is always mildly entertaining.

The Building of Jalna by Mazo de la Roche

Somebody recommended the Jalna series of books to me. I tried this one (book 1 in the series). I think it’s one of those things you have to read at the right age and I was a bit old to be starting. It’s about 19th century settlers in Canada and follows their lives over different generations. Maybe better if you’re Canadian. I did enjoy discovering that the author’s real name is the much mor prosaic Maisie Roche

The Moving Finger by Agatha Christie

Standard Agatha Christie fare – anonymous letter writing and murder – but none the worse for that.

Agatha Raisin and the Dead Ringer by MC Beaton

I had never tried an Agatha Raisin book before. For all their, extremely numerous, shortcomings, I quite enjoy the author’s Hamish Macbeth books so I thought I would try this. Honestly, it is an absolutely awful book at every conceivable level and I actually found myself wondering whether the elderly author was completely well when she wrote it and I am baffled by her publisher’s decision to publish it.

The Plot by Jean Hanff Korelitz

I am not a huge fan of thrillers with a twist so this was probably never a book for me but it’s competently done, if you like this kind of thing.

Dublin: The Making of a Capital City by David Dickson

This took me months to read. I learnt a lot about Dublin but I will only forget it all again so I am slightly wondering why I put myself through it. Very worthy but more like an academic text book to dip into than a fun read.

My sister said to me over Christmas, “You’re much more Dublin than Cork now.” I am outraged so must pick up a Cork history book, I suppose.

Still Life by Sarah Winman

A lot of people I like and respect loved this book. I mean, it’s grand and readable enough. It’s kind of a fable; a love story to Florence where a lot of English people end up living for a variety of reasons over the course of the 20th century. But overall, I found it a bit twee and very unlikely.

Death Has Deep Roots by Michael Gilbert

This is quite a well-written whodunnit from the golden age of crime writing. Pretty good, I thought.

Hare House by Sally Hinchcliffe

I must confess an interest here as the author is a blogger and cycling enthusiast whom I have been following online since 2003 and even met once.

I really enjoyed the book though. It’s a gothic horror story but not too scary for the lily livered (me). The atmosphere is built up really cleverly and I found it creepy without being too scared to turn off the light which is the perfect balance for me. Recommended.

Again Rachel by Marian Keyes

A follow-up to “Rachel’s Holiday” which I re-read in preparation. Marian Keyes is always reliably entertaining. I was entertained.

This Is Going to Hurt by Adam Kay

The first book in a very long time that made me laugh aloud. That said, who would be a junior doctor, I mean really?

In Memory of Memory by Maria Stepanova

This was such a good book but really hard going. The author is interested in family history and weaves her family story around general Russian and Jewish history with a good dose of art history as well. I found it fascinating and it deals with the theme of trying to preserve memory in a really interesting way. It’s something I am interested in myself (what do you think this blog is for?) and something my mother was interested in as well. The author does an amazing job and the result is a memoir in tribute to her family but a lot more besides. I started reading it before the war in Ukraine but was half way through when it started. I started to notice how many of the family came from Ukraine although its relationship with Russia was never really considered and in a book that contained deep thoughts about many things, that absence was interesting in itself.

Definitely recommended but you would need to be in the whole of your health to read it. Herself said, “I bet you’re the only person reading this while simultaneously rereading Georgette Heyer’s ‘Pistols for Two’.” This may well be so but you would need something less demanding on the side as you work your way through it. Also, if ever a book needed a family tree on the inside front pages, this is it. My only real complaint is the absence of same.

Mother’s Day


Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Family, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

I always think about my own mother on Mother’s Day. I still miss her. I suppose it would be strange if I didn’t.

My little family dutifully delivered for me despite the fact that it comes hot on the heels of my birthday which is always a big effort. I had a very nice breakfast, flowers and a card and, best of all, I didn’t have to get up at 6.30 to drop herself to the airport as her father kindly did so.

I trust you had a satisfactory day yourself, if you celebrate.

She’s Baaack (temporarily)


Posted in: Princess

Herself came home on Wednesday after her surfing holiday in Portugal. I was slightly surprised to learn that she is off to Marbella on Sunday for a week before returning to Dublin for further Easter holidays from April 4. Isn’t it well for her? It is far from the student life I remember which seemed to involve nothing more exciting than the odd trip to Kerry.

She expressed a willingness to go out on a cultural evening so she and I went to the launch of the Francophonie film festival on Wednesday night – a slightly sad film about Lebanon (Sous le ciel d’Alice) and a not bad at all buffet from the embassies of the countries which are members of the Francophonie (you would be surprised – I mean Austria, Greece, Hungary?).

She opened an envelope from the Department of Education which had been awaiting her attention for some time and which I had been extremely curious about. She has won a scholarship for her leaving cert results and must now input her details to secure €7,000 a year for the remainder of her college career (definitely good news) but she must confirm that the family holds a medical card to qualify (a proxy for income). We do not hold a family medical card. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. In a very Pollyannaish way she said, “But aren’t we lucky that I don’t qualify, really”. And, you know, I bask in the glow of her achievements. I often think what a pity it is that my mother got sick before herself started secondary school and got into the habit of winning prizes for everything. My mother would have really enjoyed that. And while I’m mentioning my mother, I must remember my father who was rather indifferent to academic achievement (opposites attract, I guess). Yesterday would have been his 97th birthday. I still sometimes forget he is dead and mentally bookmark things to tell him.

I had forgotten the Princess’s slightly acerbic way and I am not sure that I entirely welcomed her assessment of my singing at breakfast, “You’re like the Tesco finest version of songs, quite like the original but not really as good.” Indeed.

However, she is dutifully keeping us all up to date on what the young people are doing. She’s signed up to a new app called Be Real where once a day at the same time you take a picture and so do all your friends. It simultaneously takes a picture with the front and back camera. I am not sure I will take to it. I have to say that only one of us looks like a chipmunk in my first Be Real shot.

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My brother was passing through London when she was there last week and she brought him to a restaurant which he said was quite weird but he found it kind of fascinating. It’s where the bright young things go. He described the food as dear and bad. Of course it was dearer for him because he also gave her some cash which she promptly went out and spent on a rather nice new coat.

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People it is so strange when your child becomes an adult and knows things that you don’t and is out and about in the world but surprisingly gratifying too.

The Cost of Living or it Could Always Be Worse


Posted in: Ireland

I was talking to a farmer about petrol prices (high) and food prices (rising). He said, “And the fertiliser prices aren’t helping.” Did you know that there is a fertiliser crisis? He said that his father-in-law who only does tillage spent €70,000 on fertiliser last year and €140,000 this year. I can’t see that not having an influence on food prices more generally.

I was telling this to an acquaintance and we wondered whether we could conceivably have petrol or food rationing. I reminisced about how my mother used to talk about the problem getting tea during the war (or the Emergency as it was know locally). They had plenty of food but they had to keep and re-use the tea leaves. “Perhaps we should panic buy tea,” I suggested. Her mother, who we discovered was born the same year as mine, had a slightly different experience, although they were farmers and alright for food, they couldn’t get toys . So, in a slightly bizarre twist, her grandparents told their children that Santa was dead. A neighbour came in and told them that he had had a glass of whiskey at Santa’s funeral. Notwithstanding this they hung up their stockings but on Christmas morning there was nothing in them. Honestly, would it not have been better to say that Santa was sick? That seems a particularly permanent solution to what was ultimately a temporary problem.