Dublin

Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness

20 September, 2020 4 Comments
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Monday, September 7, 2020

It lashed rain. Except for Mr. Waffle, we were all back at school and work – not virtually but really. It was not the weather for a real commute but we were all pretty glad to be back except Michael who is not one bit glad, not even slightly glad and pines for lockdown.

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

There were some teething problems with the boys’ new bikes. They could not keep their school bags on their new carriers. I went and attached them using my superior skills but they informed me bitterly that evening that they came off and fell into the puddles, if anything, even faster than when they had attached them by themselves. Further work required.

There was heady excitement about the filtered permeability (or bollards) at the end of the road which local councillors were to vote on. I honestly don’t know when there has been more interest in a traffic calming measure. You will be delighted to hear that councillors voted to extend the trial to end January. Yes, I know, you’re fascinated.

My sister sent the children presents to celebrate their return to school. Great excitement.

I made apple chutney. Less excitement.

Mr. Waffle seriously endangered our marriage by going out and buying four apples. I nearly had a fit. He now knows, that if he wants an apple he should get up a ladder and pick one, I’m not even making him eat windfalls.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

We discovered that Michael had no runners. I could wish that he had told us this before 8 in the morning on the day he was going to an adventure centre. He took mine. I’m not bitter.

I met a friend for lunch in town – v thrilling indeed. Slowly things are returning to normal. Rejoice.

Thursday, September 10, 2020

I picked some more apples – literally the low-hanging fruit. When will the apple harvest end? The boys did a thing that sounded like some kind of away day management exercise at school. They absolutely loved it; its the most enthusiastic I’ve ever seen them both after a day at school. When Transition Year works, it’s really good.

Friday, September 11, 2020

Yet again, I arrived at the library doors 3 minutes before closing and, yet again, I was denied entry to paradise. Yes, there’s a message there. I dropped an enormous jar of very hot apple jelly on the kitchen floor and spent the next hour mopping and picking up broken glass and it was still sticky underfoot for days. Sigh.

For cinema night, we watched “Fire Saga” which wasn’t bad but would have been better if the children had ever seen the Eurovision Song Contest.

Saturday, September 12, 2020

I got an early train to Cork. It was a beautiful morning when I arrived. It’s hard to think of anywhere nicer than Cork in sunshine. I stopped off at the Crawford gallery on the way to my parents’ house. Not one but two friends sent me this link while I was actually in the gallery. Hard to know what to say. We intellectuals are often got at.

'The definition of an intellectual in Cork is someone who goes into the Crawford Art Gallery when it isn't raining'

Top tips for Dubs heading for Cork to avoid lockdown.#askaudreyvids #askaudrey #Cork @CrawfordArtGall #Dublin pic.twitter.com/uTLRvUoVgP
— Ask Audrey, Cork (@Askaudreylike) September 11, 2020

I see that the gallery has a new acquisition, a picture which appears in another picture – one of my favourite things.

I saw everyone in the family, my 95 year old father, my 91 year old aunt, my brother and my sister and prayed that I was not infecting them with stray germs from Covid-ridden Dublin. In my further family history explorations, I discovered that growing up my father and aunt had a terrier called Sandy whom my father cordially loathed, apparently Sandy was very nippy and it was a rush to close the gate so that the postman could get out with his ankles intact. This may explain why he was never open to getting a family dog. His father died when he was very young and he didn’t seem much of his father’s family afterwards but he asked me to check the census to see whether he had had an aunt Nan. He had. He said that he remembered her crying as she sewed black diamonds on to the men’s sleeves when his grandfather (his father’s father) died. He also said that Uncle Jack his father’s brother was very good at maths and used to give grinds. Those good at maths genes passed down to my father but skipped neatly over me and on to herself who also really enjoys maths.

Sunday, September 13, 2020

A mad dash for the train which I just about made. It turns out you can cycle from my parents’ house to the station in 20 minutes but I wouldn’t recommend it.

I got home and found that the apple jelly had failed to set. Typical.

Monday, September 14, 2020

I had another lunch out. Let joy be unconfined.

Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Lunch out again. I’m on a roll here. We discover that Michael does not in fact love working in a charity shop on Wednesday afternoons for Transition Year. Daniel continues keen though, so there’s that.

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Apple stocks are at crisis levels and there are still three trees full of apples out the back.

When I was growing up, my parents had 11 or 12 apple trees in the back gardens which were a magnet for local children who would come in and steal them much to my father’s chagrin – I remember him running out to the garden in fury and children scattering at speed. On one memorable occasion, a classmate was telling me about a great place for “slogging apples”. The expression was new to me but the meaning was clear. On investigation it turned out to be my garden which left me feeling a little awkward but she was charmed by the discovery. Frankly, at this stage I would welcome an apple slogger.

Dublin is on Level 2+ of the new national Covid plan and I reflect guiltily on my lunches out.

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Daniel is doing this course on Thursdays during Transition Year – it’s a university level taster thing. Did he know anyone on the course? Yes, Ben who he met on a summer science course a couple of years ago. They are like debutantes, these middle class children – they keep meeting the same people on the circuit.

A friend I met for lunch posted me some masks made by her 15 year old daughter. They are amazing – v. impressively constructed. Herself instantly nicked them both. I’ve ordered a couple of more as I think masks are going to be with us for the long haul.

We get an email from the principal saying that there is a confirmed Covid case in the school. Not a surprise but not exactly welcome news either.

Friday, September 18, 2020

Mr. Waffle and I go out for a last lunch before lockdown. I make more jelly. It sets. What will I do with it all?

I had been going to visit a friend of my mother’s over the weekend but she says perhaps better not. To nobody’s surprise, Dublin moves to level 3 – cafes and pubs closed with only outside eating, no travelling outside the county. We probably need a bigger radiator.

This was culture night and we normally go out but not this year, alas. We watched “Being John Malkovich” for film night and it remains one of the oddest films I’ve ever seen in my life.

Mr. Waffle and I were due to go on a weekend away for the weekend in April (in Northern Ireland) and we had to cancel and replaced it with a trip in October. I very much fear we won’t be able to go in October either. Oh well. Worse things happen at sea.

Saturday, September 19, 2020

I had to take herself into town to a course so had a wander around. It wasn’t as quiet as I expected now that we are in Level 3 but it wasn’t buzzing either.

We all worked on tidying up the garden (except herself who was swotting for a physics exam on Monday) – it was effective but a bit dull. As was a trip to the tile shop to talk about the bathroom renovation. Welcome to middle age, I suppose.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

In a potential game changer development, my sister tells me that apple jelly is the base for mint jelly – just add mint.

Mr. Waffle, the boys and I played a bit of tennis.

I feel in general much was achieved this weekend, but I have had more fun weekends.

You may or may not have noticed that I have been diarying every day since the start of Covid. I just want to have some idea what on earth I am doing in this weird period when everything seems slightly the same. Feel free to look away at any stage.

Getting a Bit Closer

6 September, 2020 1 Comment
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Monday, August 31, 2020

Herself went back to school. It was alright. She is not loving the new uniform.

I discovered that some more people I knew were having Covid tests and having been exposed to them – even though their doctor said it was fine – I thought I should possibly stay away from other people to the extent possible.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Back working from home. Absolutely dire. Just does not suit me. Conference called in to a meeting at work where others were physically there and it is a nightmare particularly since my head was in super large high definition telly. Snapped at the poor children who tried to talk to their mother.

I was pleased to see herself had invited some friends back and they were out in the garden social distancing dutifully. They all hate the new uniform.

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

It was lashing rain this morning. Herself insisted on cycling to school because she wanted to be able to cycle home so that she would be back in time to do a practice interview. She’s doing an interview for an arts organisation – they want to get closer to young people so they had a competition open to secondary students. Prize is interviewing an artist. She has done a lot of preparation and, in fairness, the arts body has taken it pretty seriously too.

Daniel and Michael are both working in (separate) charity shops every Wednesday afternoon as part of their Transition Year work experience. It was so strange seeing them off to what were, effectively, their first jobs. They were both a bit nervous. It seemed to go fine though; they both seem to have spent a fair bit of time organising DVDs. Daniel got to spend time on the till though so that was exciting. He said that all of the customers were young alternative fashion types like his sister or old women. “Which did you prefer?” I asked. Definitely the young women. Apparently, they come up quietly to the counter and hand over their money but the old women insist on trying things on in the corner of the shop ignoring the fact that the changing room is closed for Covid and mortifying him.

Rain poured in through the roof of the utility room. Alas. We are definitely going to do work on it but at the same time, it can’t be left leaking for the next 12 months. Mr. Waffle is going to call a roofer. Oh dear.

And in the good news ledger, one negative Covid test notification. Just waiting for confirmation of a second person as negative and I can return to the office. I am surprised how much this fills me with joy.

Thursday, September 3, 2020

The boys went back to school for a couple of hours for Covid induction. There was some confusion about whether they could continue in their charity jobs or not but in the end, it was approved and they are quite pleased.

Another negative Covid test and I am cleared to go back into the office. Delighted with myself.

As ever at this time, the apple situation is critical.

Three apple trees is at least two too many.

I have made several apple tarts, herself made a very elaborate one this evening, heavily dependent on apples. We spent what felt like hours peeling.

But worth it.

Friday, September 4, 2020

I went in to the office (met loads of councillors on a site visit to the filtered permeability i.e. bollards at the end of the road – confirmed my enthusiastic support) the children went to school. Even Mr. Waffle went out for a while. This was naturally the cue for various deliveries to be made which we were then not at home to receive. I picked them up from the post office later and got sternly lectured about the quality of the envelopes that the senders were using. I got into our local library for the first time since lockdown. They’ve reorganised a bit and it’s all self-service now but nice to be back.

For film night we had “Sully”. It’s about that plane that landed on the Hudson. It’s directed by Clint Eastwood and I thought it had a very old fashioned view of men and women. Men were calm, brave and pretty much emotion free and women were incidental bit characters. Wasn’t a great film either, a bit episodic.

Saturday, September 5, 2020

The apple crisis continues unabated. I have made apple jelly. Apple chutney is in my future. You need a lot of apples to make a small quantity of apple jelly. Great news.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled into town for a wander around. It was grand and busy I thought. We had a cup of tea and a bun in the newly reopened Bewley’s cafe. Gratifying. We sat beside the Harry Clarke window and admired dutifully. Some of his stuff can be strange as well as beautiful.

Sunday, September 6, 2020

We didn’t get up to much. We forced the boys out on a lovely cycle through the park (now, sadly, reopened to cars) which they enjoyed about as much as you might expect.

And how is your own new normal going?

Is it still only July?

18 July, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

Sunday, July 5, 2020

I took myself off to mass for the first time in many months. I was greeted by this sign. Punctual worshipers only, it appears.

Daniel had his first GAA match since March. They were flattened, alas, but he was still delighted with himself.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to the Bull Wall for a walk. A longer cycle than I anticipated. And it lashed rain on us. But I was sustained by a sense of inner smugness. Until I had to cycle home against the wind and into the rain. A low point was when I was cycling at maximum speed into the wind and Mr. Waffle hopped off and started walking beside me.

Monday, July 6, 2020

The beginning of a quite hideous week at work – now definitively full time back on site. On the plus side, I had lunch with a colleague in the park.

I was late home but as a treat, the council had laid on bollards at the end of the road. The excitement, I was absolutely delighted. Filtered permeability is the way of the future. I made my utterly uninterested children walk to the end of the road and inspect the temporary bollards (more like wands really). There was a bunch of men standing there looking bitterly at the bollards and as I re-screwed in one that had been taken out and thrown on an adjacent planter, I engaged them in conversation about the merits of filtered permeability. It would be fair to say that neither side was convinced by the arguments of the other but, in fairness, it was all reasonably good humoured (to clarify, I do not think they were the authors of the outrage that was the unscrewing of the bollard). Hilariously, they said it was no wonder that this kind of thing was happening as the CEO of Dublin city council was himself a cyclist. In my view, the cycling provision in Dublin wouldn’t exactly be a testament to that. In my mind’s eye, I see the roads division as stacked with engineers who live in the suburbs and want to turn the city centre into a motoring paradise as they don’t have to live there but that may be unfair.

Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Another trying day in the salt mines and it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to go on holidays on Friday morning and, worse, would have to travel back to Dublin on Monday for a meeting. I thought we might stay on a bit longer the following week to make up for it. I rang herself to see whether this created any difficulty for her social plans. I described my travel plans. “Fine by me,” she said, “but it sounds like the diary of a super-spreader.”

Speaking of super spreaders, I had lunch, in a cafe, with a friend. So gratifying. Herself went on the bus for the first time since March. Pretty empty she said.

She told me about her friend who said that he was contemplating reading the Bible as it’s such a best-seller.

Him: My parents have an old edition, about 20 years old in the house, do you think I could read that?

Her: Sure, why not?

Him: Well, I was thinking that it might be quite offensive from today’s viewpoint and maybe a more modern updated version would be more appropriate.

Her [long pause]: Um, it’s 2,000 years old. They don’t update it. It’s as offensive as it ever was. Knock yourself out.

It is an ongoing mystery to me how in a country where some 95% of primary schools are denominational, children and young people seem to have no idea whatsoever about religion. Even in general knowledge terms. Insert your own curmudgeonly joke here.

Arrived home from work late and absolutely sodden. Alas.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

I was at my desk from 9 to 7.45 with a short break to buy a sandwich which I consumed at my desk. I was not delighted but on the plus side, the prospect of having to return on Monday for a meeting receded. There was much rejoicing on this latter front.

And then when I got home, Daniel had made pizza for dinner. Pleasing.

Herself got her braces tightened. Miserable.

The neighbourhood whatsapp group went crazy over the bollards. Entertaining.

Thursday, July 9, 2020

Another delightful 12 hour work day. Note to file, never, ever, go on holidays in July again. It is not quiet, it is busy. Herself has developed a principle she’s tentatively calling the Polly principle (an homage to the Peter principle): “Responsibility devolves to the person available.” It’s definitely feeling true at the moment.

I got herself to order take away for dinner. When I got home I went out to join Mr. Waffle and our residents’ association chair to canvas people and encourage them to love the bollards. I was no use as they had seen everyone already by the time I caught up with them. Feeling on the doorsteps was broadly positive, I understand. All to play for, we have a four week trial to convince people.

When we thought we would be going to Cork on Friday, we moved film night to Thursday and it was too much mental effort to change back. We saw “Hot Fuzz” which wasn’t bad although, unbeknownst to Mr. Waffle, who chose it, the boys and I had seen it relatively recently.

Friday, July 10, 2020

When I finally left the office, late in the evening, the place was deserted and the bike access was locked. Who knew they would do that on a Friday? Not the person who normally takes a half day on Fridays. I was a bit reluctant to take public transport home as I had no face mask and Mr. Waffle was off with Dan at a GAA match and couldn’t give me a lift. I eventually managed to raise someone from security and got home about 9.30, tired but triumphant.

I got an email from the local Irish company (name not included to protect the guilty) from whom I ordered my face masks at great expense in mid–May that they would finally be delivered in the next 2 days, i.e. when no one would be in the house for the first time since March. However, I could not work up any significant levels of indignation as I was finally on holidays (even if, alas, my laptop was travelling with me).

Daniel arrived home from GAA with a sore wrist but we sent him to bed and hoped for the best.

Soon there will be a post on our week in Cork. There’s something to look forward to.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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 XIII

14 June, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Friday, June 5, 2020

It was a bit showery again. The government said that on Monday we will be moving to level 2+. The plus is new. Apparently from Monday you will be able to drive 20kms from where you are and anywhere within your own county. As someone from the largest county in Ireland who now lives in one of the smallest, I am, understandably, bitter. I mean, a radius of 20 kms from where I am would almost let me travel the whole of Co. Dublin anyhow whereas in Cork, you could go from Allihies to Youghal which, in case you’re curious, is 178 kms.

Also, Mr. Waffle’s mother’s nursing home is allowing outdoor visits so we can go and visit next week. And the shops are re-opening.

I made my first Lidl middle aisle purchase earlier in the week – the new Artemis Fowl book. The children are a bit old for it now but Daniel read it with some enthusiasm and finished it off today. All three of them reminisced fondly about reading Artemis Fowl on the Nintendo when they were younger. On the Nintendo? Apparently it was a thing. They said that the font was in huge comic sans and you could only get about two lines per screen but they liked it. I’m surprised it appealed when Super Mario was available and I don’t know what possessed us to buy it when we had the actual books but it must have seemed a good idea at the time.

For cinema night, Mr. Waffle picked Erin Brockovich which I haven’t seen since it came out about 20 years ago but which held up reasonably well. Still not as good as Catch Me, If You Can which remains the family favourite.

All hell broke loose on the neighbourhood whatsapp group about the proposed trial bollards at the end of the road. Needless to say, I am all in favour (it would make our road a cul de sac and prioritise walking and cycling) but it turns out that at least two households are very much not in favour. Our road is rather richer in legal professionals than is strictly required and my favourite intervention of the night was, “That is a partial argument, with respect.” Cravenly, I ranged myself with the silent majority and said nothing. I’ve already signed the petition.

Saturday, June 6, 2020

Up with the lark for Daniel’s GAA training. The coach says they won’t be able to train together until after June 29 and no matches for the foreseeable. Another 1,000 reps.

Our friend who lives in the Netherlands rang for a chat. Her eldest finished school this year – it made me feel very old to hear that he has finished school, I remember when he was a baby. No exams for him due to Corona virus but he’s off to college in Leiden in the autumn. Mostly online apparently but some on site lab work. How strange this all is.

Herself got her English exam back and was quite pleased with the kind words from her teacher. She continues to hate Paul Durcan though.

The internet appeared to have died pretty definitively; in a fit of desperation, Michael managed to revive it. A miracle. A new modem is to be supplied to us all the same. The children may die of boredom. And it’s raining out.

I have to say I felt something close to despair at the endless unvarying repetitiveness of it all.

The lock on back door (the fancy bi-fold door that the builder warned us would be nothing but trouble) broke and the people who sold it to us weren’t at all sure when they would be able to send someone out to repair it.

Sunday, June 7, 2020

An all round grumpy day. Nothing to report other than that the cleaning rota is still with us and we all hate it.

Monday, June 8, 2020

I was woken at 3 in the morning by an unexpected noise and instantly began compiling a list of stealable items in the house: 5 mobile phones; 4 laptops; three tablets; 2 wifi boosters and a partridge in a pear tree. It was not burglars taking advantage of our unlockable back door. Not sure what it was; rat party perhaps?

Last week there were window cleaners next door and I asked them could they do ours as well. They turned up somewhat unexpectedly but I was delighted to see them and they did an amazing job. I had no idea that clean windows could be quite so thrilling.

The council have confirmed that we are having trial bollards installed at the end of the month. I am delighted. Mr. “That is a partial argument, with respect” left the neighbourhood Whatsapp group where everyone piled in congratulating the residents’ committee on their achievement. He may feel that he is not amongst kindred spirits. If you’re good, I might post a picture of the bollards when they go in. Yes, indeed, this is the kind of knuckle whitening ride that I am willing to bring you on.

Enthused by the successes of the day – window cleaning, bollard installing – I cut back a tree in the back garden which has been driving me crazy.

Tuesday, June 9, 2020

Herself went to the park to meet a friend.

After I’d finished work for the day, Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk. We saw a swan and six cygnets which was delightful but you’ll have to take my word for it as I left my phone with camera at home.

One of our neighbours asked for an old golf ball on the whatsapp group. We met her on our walk and asked what on earth she wanted a golf ball for. Apparently, one of her hens is pecking her own eggs and it will make her stop. I’d say it might. Today is bird information day.

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

I was summoned from sleep good and early by Daniel who brought the unlovely tidings that the cat had been sick on his bed.

I’m a bit baffled about the various lock down rules and phases at this stage. We’ve thrown out the original thing we stuck up on the radiator and put up a new one describing the current phase.

Herself went into town to meet a friend. The boys’ year end reports came. They were relatively pleased. Herself was furious that there was no sign of hers and that the school uniform is to undergo changes of which she disapproves.

The man came to install the new modem. He disabled the current one for a good half hour leaving me to drop out of one meeting and have to dial in via phone to the next one. Then he said the modem was fine which it is not. Our neighbours seem to have excellent broadband and I decided we would go with their supplier. They have both vodafone and eircom so that they have cover as they both inevitably go down about an hour a day each. This seems a bit extravagant to me but I am slightly tempted.

Daniel and Michael made pizza for dinner and it was excellent.

Thursday, 11 June 2020

A batch of online shopping arrived for me and I was pretty pleased. I discovered that I had, accidentally, bought myself the exact same trousers I have already but, look, I know that I like them.

My sister called to say that my father was getting out of hospital on Friday and I mentally prepped myself for my first trip to Cork since March.

We went out to the cousins’ house to pick up a guitar which we had bought online and had to be collected from within 5kms of them but beyond 5km of us, if you see what I mean. We could just have waited and picked it up ourselves rather than letting it sit in their house for a couple of weeks but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

We had intended to have a walk by the seaside but it was lashing rain so we went to their house. And then we stayed for take away. And now I think that having not seen anyone for months, I have put myself at risk of infection just as I’m about to go and see my father – my nephew had spent the day on a sailing course but in a boat on his own so, ok, I guess? But it was so nice to see them and get out of the house. With other people around, I suddenly became conscious of how much we have just seen our own immediate family. Also, Michael was delighted to get his guitar.

Mr. Waffle sent this picture around the family whatsapp group with the message – “This is depressing.” What on earth will we get him for father’s day?

Friday, June 12, 2020

The hospital aren’t going to release my father after all. Maybe tomorrow. I am on tenterhooks.

The man came to repair the bi-fold door. Apparently they are quite sensitive to heat. Great. Repair was free though so there’s that.

Mr. Waffle and I went out to walk in Howth in the rain. Not as unpleasant as you might suppose. The traffic was appalling on the way there so we seem to be more or less back to normal in that regard.

I chose “Contagion” for movie night which was, to be honest, a bit close to home. We were all familiar with R 0 and social distancing, thanks very much. It’s quite impressive how much the film got right but we all know now that 4 months for a vaccine is much, much too short.

Saturday, June 13, 2020

The hospital are not letting my father out until Monday at the earliest. He has a chest infection and is on IV antibiotics. He’s pretty grumpy as well, I can tell you. I rang to talk to him but he said, “Dear, if all the news you have is emm, emm, then perhaps we should hang up.” It’s just hard to come up with news at the moment is all I would say. I can tell that he’s looking forward to my visit.

Mr. Waffle bought me flowers which was pleasing.

Herself went to a friend’s house for lunch and the rest of us went for a walk by the sea in Portrane which Mr. Waffle and I last did on my birthday on March 10. There’s a lot of water under the bridge since then. Beautiful weather and lots of people in swimming in stark contrast to Howth only the previous day.

We had our last zoom quiz of this pandemic season (suspended on the basis that we can now meet outdoor and indoors in limited numbers) and, finishing on a high note, Mr. Waffle and I won.

Sunday, June 14, 2020 – Father’s Day

Alerted as I was to the presence of Father’s Day by Mr. Waffle’s message to the family whatsapp group, I ordered an online afternoon tea (heavy on seafood) from Cliff House. I was therefore not even slightly delighted when I went downstairs and wished him a happy father’s day and he said, “Is it today? I thought it was next weekend.” People, it is next weekend. But my order came and we had afternoon tea all the same and, in fairness, I have to say it was absolutely delicious though complex assembly required. Highly recommended. I may never eat again. Photo below leaves out lobster bisque (meringues, strawberries, raspberries and cream model’s own).

How did you enjoy father’s day yourself?

Plague Diary – Part XII

5 June, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

Monday, May 25, 2020

We have no real engagements in our private life any more. This is what the family google calendar looks like now.

We contacted the orthodontist (herself is still miserable with the snapped brace) and she has an appointment for mid-June so that’s something I suppose.

I rang the council to ask about the tennis courts and spoke to a very nice man who said he was only a lowly functionary but the “higher ups” were concerned as council courts and golf clubs couldn’t reopen as, unlike private clubs, they couldn’t guarantee the disinfectant and social distancing required. At least I know why now. I enjoyed the frank exposition of the position which makes sense, I suppose but it does seem a pity. I might see whether I can rejoin the tennis club if this goes on much longer.

Herself continued her examinations. Her maths teacher, in what can only be called an excess of dedication/sadistic exercise, set each child a different paper based on his or her weaknesses. I understand it was in part due to a desire to limit opportunities for, ahem, teamwork. She said it was alright.

Daniel and Michael cycled into school to pick up their stuff from their lockers. We’re a bit unclear about what they are going to do now that they are on holidays and don’t want them to spend every waking hour online. In a non-synchronised effort which could have done with a little more preparation, I told them that they couldn’t play on any electronic devices in the afternoon and Mr. Waffle told them no devices in the morning. The difficulty only emerged at lunch time and we were merciful and let them on devices in the afternoon. What are we going to do all summer?

I had my online book club in the evening and work proceeded on the jigsaw.

No corona virus deaths announced today which must surely be a good sign. I feel filled with, perhaps unwarranted, optimism.

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

I got a mystery bill (by letter) for €2.14 from UPS. I have never had an account with them as far as I know. But it seems an odd amount to try to scam from me. I have sent them an email querying it but I am half inclined to pay it as I am weak and feeble and it is only €2.14.

Herself had her German exam which she said was fine. “Fine” is possibly the most overused word in describing school work and exams to parents. She is busy editing an online quarantine magazine put together with her friends.

The boys are at a bit of a loose end. Related: we finished another jigsaw.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Mr. Waffle made sourdough. While it rose a bit more than previous attempts, I am afraid it cannot be called a complete success. Sourdough is a cruel mistress. He also bought croissants for breakfast. Complete success there.

The fine weather broke. The grass was looking a bit brown and sorry for us and Dublin water supplies were, as ever, on a knife edge, so for the best.

Herself had her applied maths exam. It was hard going. She informed us dolefully that the teacher had said there would be some easy questions and some hard ones and she couldn’t tell which were which. Oh dear.

With the return of outdoor workers, we got a man in to fix the basket ball hoop. Rejoicing.

The cat was going crazy this morning trying to get into the oven. File footage of the cat going crazy:

We ignored it as best we might looking nervously at the unremovable fitted kitchen which surrounded the oven.

I missed lunch due to work issues. Bitter.

At about 5.15 as I was toiling over a hot laptop, I heard a commotion outside. Daniel had kicked a ball through the shed window and the basketball into the next door neighbour’s garden. I texted the neighbours who dutifully tossed back the ball; Michael and I went to sweep up the glass in the shed while Daniel had a restorative bowl of cereal (recovering from the shock of it not being a catastrophic pane of glass to break – level of parental ire: mild).

When I got back to the kitchen, Daniel was pointing at the oven in horror, “There’s a noise, behind the oven.” There was, kind of a fluttery sound, could it be a bird? The unit around the oven is sealed and although there is a small hole at the top, how could a bird have got in? Mr. Waffle said bracingly that it probably flew in the back door but Occam’s razor suggests that it was not a bird that had got in there but something much more sinister.

Aside here on rats and mice. A colleague told me he was bringing up tea to his wife on Saturday morning and thought he saw movement in the bed while she was in the bathroom but said nothing. When she got back into bed, she thought she felt a mild muscle spasm in her leg but didn’t investigate. When she got up to make the bed she found a small dead mouse in the bed. Great unhappiness. The working theory is that she squashed it when she got back into bed. Then another friend of mine had rats under the decking (classic) and called in Rentokil. They told her that, with the lock down, restaurants were largely closed and not only was the usual food supply not there but in normal times restaurants are constantly putting down poison to ensure that vermin are rigorously excluded from their premises but, obviously, not now. So there’s an uptick in rats etc. Good news.

Anyhow, there were myself and Daniel staring horror struck at the oven when Mr. Waffle arrived in to say that Daniel had a zoom training session at 5.30. I undertook to do training, if he would deal with the noise. I did training. Daniel did 800 reps in 45 minutes. I didn’t even know what a rep was before this (it’s one exercise, like a push up or whatever). Those teenage GAA players are the fittest people you will ever meet. Did Mr. Waffle get out our (best case scenario) trapped bird? He did not. I finished work. We went for a long walk. When we came back we heard a scrabbling noise behind the oven. I mean now we appeared to be moving to best case scenario dead bird behind the cooker. My sister suggested we might sprinkle lime behind the cooker. Dear God. I think we might have to get the basketball hoop handyman back to extract the oven and peer behind.

After dinner herself went to her room to recover from the undoubted traumas of the day. Mr. Waffle, the boys and I played an extremely competitive variant of happy families.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

I woke up at 3 in the morning with a sore finger from where I got a thorn in it at the weekend. Early start to the day with a tweezers and needle. Not recommended.

The cat was indifferent to the oven. There were no more noises. Mr. Waffle is inclined to ignore the problems, sweep them behind the oven, if you will but I continue to be…concerned. Herself, who sleeps over the kitchen, announced that she heard a fluttering noise under her floorboards overnight.

The boys made lunch and herself made dinner. I began to realise that just because I now work at the desk where previously I sat to do domestic admin does not mean that I can complete all of my domestic admin and my work admin in the space of the working day notwithstanding the fact that I am now have no commuting time. I am also increasingly realising that talking to people at work about non-work things helps work to work and it is hard to replace with video conferencing.

Friday, May 29, 2020

Rejoice for the bank holiday weekend and glorious weather. We got a nice bread delivery. It was the last day of school and exams for herself and she celebrated by going for a picnic with friends in the park. She hasn’t been sunburnt for years as she is assiduous about covering herself up and putting on suncream but she missed a large swathe of her back and was burnt to a frazzle.

The boys were also enjoying their new found freedom to meet friends on a socially distanced basis outside and met friends in the park for what they assure me was a very successful dungeons and dragons session.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a middle aged but delightful stroll around the botanic gardens.

We had a barbecue for dinner and afterwards had “Seven Psychopaths” for our Friday evening film. I wouldn’t have chosen it myself but not bad. Colin Farrell was excellent. Half way through, one of the children said, “Hang on, is he Irish?” Yes, my cherubim, he is.

Daniel said excitedly that it had been his busiest day since lock down started : French class in the morning (still ongoing despite protests), Dungeons and Dragons in the afternoon and barbecue and film in the evening. The poor child.

Saturday, 30 May, 2020

I was up bright and early to film Dan for his GAA zoom training session. I picked all my peonies as peonies are not consistent with GAA training.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to the village 5 kms away which I used to find utterly charming and delightful but now is palling slightly.

Cow parsley was growing in great profusion along the river banks. I find myself in some difficulty with cow parsley. In the interior design focussed, occasionally twee and whimsical, corner of instagram I now inhabit (having abandoned twitter as too vicious), people love cow parsley, my God, they love it. Now my mother was a farmer’s daughter, my grandfather and uncle were farmers and a number of my cousins are farmers. I will tell you this, farmers are not taken with cow parsley, they do not see its interior decorating charm and we grew up being told it smelled of cow urine. I can’t say whether this is accurate as, being a city girl myself, my experience of cows is not extensive, but yet, I cannot love cow parsley and pick it in great photogenic armfuls to sit in my bike basket. Too many of my relatives, alive and dead, would snigger at me. Maybe next year.

We dutifully hosted the online quiz which we won last week. It’s more fun guessing than asking the questions. I did enjoy reading the quotes for the poetry round though.

Sunday, May 31, 2020

I got up late which is something I really quite enjoy and don’t get to do very often. We dutifully completed the cleaning rota now in its tenth week (sigh). I had my Sunday book club (not to be confused with my Monday book club) which I hadn’t had for four weeks. We are hoping for a real, non-virtual one in July. Do I indulge optimism too far?

We cycled to the seaside and had chips on the seafront as a bank holiday treat. I’ve had worse. Herself announced, “I have yet again inadvertently swallowed an elastic.” Upon observing tactless laughter, she added bitterly, “Oh yes, serving up orthodontic humour since 2018.”

My father went back into hospital (small private not large acute, but still unsatisfactory). I feel strong regret that I did not drive down to Cork to see him while he was at home. There is zero chance they will let me in to the hospital. As soon as he gets out, I will hotfoot it to Cork with my letter from his GP saying he is very sick and hope to be let through by the Guards. My father’s alright, I think, as in not going to die immediately, but frail and 95 and in hospital so not, you know, great.

Monday, June 1, 2020

I brought out the paddling pool. Mr. Waffle mocked me but we all ended up paddling, so there. We spent all day in the back garden in glorious sunshine. Herself went to meet friends for a picnic in the botanic gardens. She made cake.

Mr. Waffle said that he liked how our lives are less frantic at the moment. I know what he means a bit. We were always squeezing things in and running to training or to meetings (residents’ committee, parents’ committee, you name it) after work but I don’t quite see how we will preserve this post lock down.

Back off on my bicycle to the village 5 km away. Honestly, I’m beginning to think it will be too soon, if I never go there again.

Tuesday, June 2, 2020

This was my first day off work in the new dispensation. I struggled a little bit to know what to do with a day’s holiday. It was a beautiul day but I didn’t quite know what might be different or novel or a treat. I felt the boys needed a bit of exercise so we cycled to the botanic gardens again. They were less than entranced.

It was warm and sunny and not bad but just a bit…repetitive. My day’s triumph was making homemade lemonade which was very nice indeed. We take our thrills where we can.

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

I paid for my day off and was pretty busy at work. I am sick of video conference calls. My sister, who has worked for large multinational companies since leaving college, has been managing remote teams for years and I sense that she is mildly smug as the rest of us struggle with the new dispensation.

My father has been diagnosed with a new illness to add to the long list he has already. As my sister says, it’s chronic which means you can have it for a long time, but still, not maybe a great sign. No word on when he will be let out of hospital.

Daniel had training at 5.30. I have been doing the zooming with him but a work crisis meant I was chained to my laptop so Mr. Waffle took over. Daniel deemed him unsatisfactory: he did not explain the exercises; he failed to count Daniel’s reps (hark at me); he kept saying Daniel should give up if he was tired (Mr. Waffle does not have the same puritanical streak as me); and, worst of all, his phone ran out of battery ten minutes before the end and herself had to be deployed to put an extension lead out the utility room window. Unfortunately, there’s a bit of a knack to the window and herself hasn’t got it so that led to further delay and unhappiness. I have a friend who says that when people say that “there’s a bit of a knack to it” they really just mean, “it’s broken”. This is, arguably, true.

At the start of the lockdown, I commissioned an artist whose stuff I had seen on instagram to paint a portrait of the children. It seemed like a nice thing to do. I sent her loads of photos of the kids so even though she couldn’t see them, she knew what they looked like and she felt it would work ok. Yesterday she sent me a picture of the picture which I will be picking up next week. When I signed the contract with her it provided that she retained the copyright (standard, apparently) and I was sad but now that I have seen it, I will never want to show it anywhere, so that’s ok. I’m not quite sure what went wrong. I saw her other stuff and liked it. But this picture, oh dear. Actually Daniel is ok but Michael looks manic and, as my sister said, herself looks ok but just 30 years older than she actually is. Alas, an expensive and ultimately unsatisfactory experiment. Look, at least I will be spared framing costs. And on the plus side my (not at all expensive when compared to the cost of commissioning a picture) new oven gloves from Marimekko arrived and I love them. I got a pair previously as a present and I can really recommend them: stylish yet practical. It has come to this.

Thursday, June 4, 2020

Another busy day in the salt mines. Herself made an extraordinarily elaborate dinner which was very nice on two counts: firstly, it was very nice and, secondly, I didn’t have to cook it. She was chopping and dicing from lunchtime onwards.

She called it East, East, East, East fusion: gyoza from Japan, spring rolls from China, saffron rice and carmelised lettuce from, maybe, Iran (I forget) and vereniki from Eastern Europe (generally rather than a specific local recipe). As Mr. Waffle said, “At least we won’t have to worry that she won’t be able to feed herself when she leaves home.” There was lemon sorbet and raspberry sorbet with chocolate sauce for dessert but I haven’t got any pictures.

My brother has a new job in Dublin. Theoretically at least. He won’t actually be let into his new office until autumn at the earliest, I’d say so he’ll be based in Cork for a while yet. He is pleased. We are pleased that he will be in Dublin. I’m a bit worried about my sister alone in Cork minding elderly relatives but she seemed sanguine when I spoke to her.

Also, it’s been a week since the fluttery noise. No update. Ominous.