Ireland

In All Fairness

24 June, 2012
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Like the middle aged mother I am, I stood staring at mobile phone covers in the Vodafone shop for a long time trying to work out what would suit me best. A shop assistant came up, advised, put me out of my misery and switched on my roaming for me. I could feel that the people behind me in the queue might have been a bit tense on their lunch breaks but I was a happy woman.

And then, you may recall that Mr. Waffle got me a new phone for Christmas. Part of the rather generous deal was that he would cover the bills. From time to time, I would hear him muttering darkly as he wrestled with the internet billing system. To no avail. Between January and June, no bills came. He began to get concerned. He went to the Vodafone shop. “Oh sorry sir” said they [or words to this effect – does anyone say sir anymore?] “Entirely our fault; there’s a problem with our billing system. We won’t charge you for the period between Christmas and June.”

Am I feeling warm and fuzzy towards vodafone, oh yes I am.

A More Innocent Time

22 June, 2012
Posted in: Cork, Ireland

I know someone who took three weeks off work to nurse her children through the State examinations which ended today. I seem to remember that my parents went on holidays before I finished my Leaving Certificate. My sister maintains it was the matric (now abolished), but you see my point.

This brings me to a story. When I sat down in the Lee Maltings (now a trendy research institute) to do my matric in 1986 (yes, alas, neither today nor yesterday), I was young and considerably less knowledgeable than I thought. The invigilator who talked us through the form on the first day said, “Where it says place of birth, put Cork; they’re not interested in the competition between the Bons and the Ville.” As I had my pen poised to write that I was born in the Bons Secours Maternity hospital, his warning was timely.

That’s enough exam nostalgia for one day.

The Longest Day of the Year

21 June, 2012
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

Today is my favourite aunt’s birthday [or possibly not, this was a matter of some dispute between the American authorities and my grandmother; to be fair, you would think she would know]. When I was forced at age 11 to move from a larger house to a smaller one, the only comfort was that my aunt lived next door. And she still does and now when we visit Cork, my children wander into her house and eat her food, watch her television and play her piano just like my brother and sister and I have been doing for 30 years. I had better not tell the children that in summer she played soccer with us in the back garden until it got dark.