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Ireland

Historic Times [now with extra traffic restrictions!]


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

The Queen of England is arriving in Dublin tomorrow. I hadn’t spoken about it particularly at home. However, as we live in an exciting part of town, I recently realised that this information vacuum was being filled by what herself was reading on the lamp posts – “No Queen in the city of ’16”, for example. So I explained to them that this was a historic and welcome step in the normalisation of relations between two countries and so on.

The first intimations I had that this was likely to be deeply inconvenient historic step etc. etc. came some time later. Normally when the Queen [or ‘an Bhanríon Eilís’ as she is known in communications from our school] goes to places, children give her flowers. School children in Dublin whose schools are near places she is to visit are being given the day off. Instead of our children greeting her with flowers, I gather that there is to be a sniper on the roof to keep the Queen safe. This has, understandably, made her visit hugely popular with the children and it seems unlikely, at this point that Barack Obama’s historic visit next week [yes, really, next week] will measure up. Unless, that is, he goes to the same places and the CIA insist that the school is closed again, in which case, I will cry.

I understand from a friend of mine who is on the Western Circuit that prosecutions have stopped as there isn’t a Guard in left the West of Ireland. They’ve all been moved to Dublin for the impending back to back State visits. This morning, most of these Guards appeared to be posted in the centre of Dublin between our home and the children’s school. I am forced to confess that if I were looking for dissident republicans in Dublin, I would certainly start in our postcode area and areas adjacent. It’s a bit unfortunate that two of the Queen’s official engagements take her into the heart of these areas. I suppose that she’s been in more dangerous places, Northern Ireland leaps to mind but still, I wouldn’t fancy it myself, if I were her. Of course, if I were her, I would have abdicated years ago, so, quite different personality types then.

This morning, the traffic was dreadful with many roads sealed off. In the car, on the radio [as opposed to in person, ok you knew that], the Garda Commissioner refused to comment on whether British police would be lining the streets of Dublin and reinforcing Gardai. But he made positive noises about co-operation and excellent working relationships with British counterparts.

We abandoned the car some distance from our destination and skipped through bizarrely car free streets to the school, being diverted several times on the way. On the way we saw authorities hacking away at foliage with untoward vigour. Doubtless more security measures. At the final hurdle a guard seemed to have been authorised to let us in and he ushered us through saying cheerfully, “Brostaigí!” [Hurry up]. Michael turned to him and said, in tones of amazement, “You’re English, but you know Irish!” The Guard was somewhat baffled, as was I, until I recalled the discussion on the radio. This you realise, is 24 hours BEFORE the monarch’s plane touches down on Irish soil. As we were going around several windy blocks [with Daniel complaining bitterly that he was freezing but that he wouldn’t wear that coat because he didn’t like it], she was quite possibly sitting in Buckingham Palace having toast. I suppose that’s a perk of a job that involves being protected by snipers.

Apparently, there is no private car access to one of the city’s main maternity hospitals for security reasons on Tuesday and Wednesday. Trained obstetricians will be posted on the street corners to make sure that those approaching the hospital on foot are really pregnant [ok, I made that up].

And the Queen’s visit has even more momentous counsequences, on Wednesday, the children are going to school but will not be able to leave the school premises during school hours. What is the problem with this you ask? Well, it was to be the occasion of one of the final church rehearsals for Saturday’s First Communion and they have been unexpectedly confined to base. The múinteoir is apparently tearing her hair out. I think that they still had quite a bit of rehearsal to go. My suggestion to herself that they might spend the time in prayer and spiritual preparation fell on distinctly stony soil.

I also work in the city centre and ever more alarming press releases have been circulated on to staff from the Garda press office and public transport providers.

Edited highlights from Press Release circulated last week [my comments in brackets]:

General advice:

There will be diversions and rolling road closures which will be flagged in advance.

For security reasons, there will be periodic searches of pedestrians and vehicles by members of An Garda Síochána at key locations.

The following roads are among the routes that will be subject to temporary closures at various times between 17 May and 20 May 2011 (full details to be notified to the public when finalised and closer to the time):

N7, N4 and M50 [i.e. main routes out of the City to the South and the motorway around Dublin – the M50 is to Dublin what the M25 is to London]

Phoenix Park [Apparently, the Phoenix park is closed for 2 weeks. For 2 WEEKS – this is the Queen and Barack Obama combined – they are both staying there [sequentially, obviously, otherwise the protocol and logistics might kill us all]. Problems with this include the following: it’s a huge amenity for the city – I think it’s the largest city park in Europe – it has the zoo, playgrounds, cricket pitches, polo fields, GAA grounds, parkland, deer, the President’s house, a hospital, a main road running through the middle of it, the US ambassador’s residence and a residence for visiting dignataries. You can see how those last two have turned out to be more problematic than planned. My sister tells me that every time I phone her, I say, “Do you know that they’re going to close the Phoenix Park for 2 WEEKS?”]
North and South Quays, and adjacent bridges and streets. [All the traffic in Dublin flows along the quays, stop the quays, nothing moves anywhere – yeah, I know, great system].

There will be no parking in the following areas from 06:00 on Saturday 14 May [i.e. the Saturday before the Tuesday on which the Queen’s plane touches down] to Friday 20 May 2011. Barriers will be placed along all or some of these routes over the same time period:
Chesterfield Avenue, North Quays, South Quays, Parkgate Street, O’ Connell Street, Parnell Square (All Sides), D’Olier Street, Westmoreland Street, College Street, Grafton Street, Nassau Street, South Leinster Street, Lincoln Place,Westland Row, Pearse Street, Bridge Street, High Street, Cornmarket, Thomas Street,
James’s Street, Crane Street, Bellevue, Lord Edward Street, Dame Street, Conyngham Rd, Rainsford Street, Christchurch Place, South Circular Road (Con Colbert rd – Conyngham Rd), Beresford Place, Gardiner Street, Mountjoy Square, Fitzgibbon Street, Russell Street, Jones Rd, Memorial Rd, Castle Street, Werburgh Street, Ship Street, Stephen St, Guild Street, Sherriff Street Upper
[This is essentially, EVERY street in the city centre.]

And then, if you were thinking of taking the tram, the following turned up in inboxes:

On Tuesday May 17 2011 the Luas Red Line service, (Tallaght to Connolly and The Point Stops) will run as normal between Tallaght and Connolly until 13:00pm. From 13:00pm till 17. 15pm service will operate between Tallaght and Blackhorse Stops only. Please also note, Luas Abbey Street Stop on Tuesday May 17 will be closed from 5.30am to 17:15pm Passengers are advised to watch this website (www.luas.ie) for updated information. Similarly, there will be Red Line service changes on Wednesday May 18 2011. Luas Red line service will operate normally from Tallaght to Connolly stop until 8.25am. From 8.25am till later in the evening, approximately 16.25pm the service will operate between Tallaght and Blackhorse Stop only.

And then, the rail services added their mite:

Full services will operate across DART, Commuter & Intercity, with the following alterations:
There will be some brief suspension of services between Connolly and Pearse at the request of Gardaí for security reasons, at the following times:

10.45hrs-11.15hrs; 14.30hrs-15.00hrs, 15.30hrs-16.00hrs

During these times, northside services will operate from Howth / Malahide and Drogheda to and from Connolly Station; and Southside services will operate from Bray and Greystones to and from Pearse Station, meaning customers will still be able to travel to and from the city. There will also be delays to Maynooth line services.

Maynooth services will not serve Drumcondra Station between 10.30hrs and 16.00hrs on Wednesday 18th May. Trains will operate to a full schedule, but will not stop at Drumcondra.

Europa League Final

At the request of the Gardaí, for security reasons, Lansdowne Road Station will be closed from 17.00hrs to 20.00hrs on Wednesday 18th May, the evening of the UEFA Europa League Final.

Customers should travel to and from Grand Canal Dock Station or Sandymount Station during this time.

Did you like the way the Europa League Final is also scheduled? Is it any wonder that there are no Guards left in the West?

Sweet Cork of Thee


Posted in: Cork, Ireland

I took the children to Cork last week leaving Mr. Waffle to work alone in the big smoke. I stayed with my parents who I felt would welcome the excitement of being woken early, feeding our picky eaters and generally bonding with their grandchildren. That last worked well, the Princess and her grandmother are now both addicted to “Keeping up Appearances“.

We made the obligatory trip to Fota. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. Mr. Waffle, safe in his Dublin fastness, suggested that it might be fun to go. Hah. It was a warm day and I covered the children in sunscreen. Michael and Daniel insisted on wearing their jumpers which they resolutely kept on all day – turning slowly purple in the heat.

No sooner had we passed through the gates (long queue, of course) than the children scented the possibility of acquiring plush toys. Once this hurdle had been cleared, they threw themselves into the playground by the gate paying scant attention to the monkeys sitting nearby. The Princess discovered that she does not like sand in her sandals and, to my horror, I saw her sitting in the middle of the playground licking the sand off her toes. Does this kind of thing happen to anyone else?

We then hurried on to the cafe in the centre of the park because everyone was hungry. The cafe had long queues and the food was quite vile. I lost each of the children in turn in the seething mass of humanity in the nearby playground and, of course, had to drag the other two, unwillingly, on the search, so that I didn’t compound my losses. I spent €27 on a range of items which the children might eat. The Princess ate most of hers. Daniel ate some chips. Michael ate two or three chips, announced he was full and skipped out to the playground. As is his form, 15 minutes later, when the food was gone, he announced that he was hungry. Ice creams followed. Daniel kept asking to go on the little train around the park but we always seemed to miss it and he spent much of the day looking after it mournfully. At no point, other than when we saw the baby penguins in the incubator, did they show the slightest interest in the animals. Sigh.

Obligatory giraffe picture. They’re all looking at me exploding with rage.
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On Friday, the boys and I dropped my parents’ car into town to get the clutch fixed. We found ourselves in the centre of town at 8.45. It was a perfect morning. Blue skies, leafy vistas and no one in town but ourselves. The boom was kind to Cork and the centre didn’t change fundamentally, it just got nicer. Cork is at its best in summer, it feels like a compact appealing maritime town which is exactly what it used to be. For me, there is nowhere in the world that is so lovely early on a sunny day. Maybe the fact that I no longer live there added some enchantment to the view.

We went into the market for a wander. The lady in the egg stall gave us free duck eggs to try and confided that they were all very excited about the Queen of England’s forthcoming visit. Michael walked around the market holding his nose because it was full of disgusting smells like olives, fish and fresh bread.

We got back to my parents’ house in time to watch the British royal wedding. Sample conversation during same:
Daniel: When will this be over, I want to watch cartoons!
Michael: Why can’t we watch cartoons?
Their mother, sister and grandmother: Wait, wait, look they’re going to kiss on the balcony.

Herself was somewhat confused by the extensive references to the Irish Guards and shouted out gleefully, “Look Mummy, the Gardaí are coming.” Of course, having spent the week in my parents’ house, we were fully aware of all aspects of the wedding. My father reads the Daily Telegraph – does it make it better or worse that they used to always take it in his house when he was growing up? The Telegraph outdid itself last week with pictures of the happy couple on the front page every day.

After the wedding, I prodded the children out the door to the beach. Despite considerable reluctance, they loved Garretstown beach where they had never been before and all got wet to varying degrees.

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And then into Kinsale afterwards for an ice cream.
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Is it always the last day of a holiday that’s the best?

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Outing


Posted in: Family, Ireland

On Saturday we went for an outing to the site of the Battle of the Boyne. Despite Mr. Waffle’s dubiety this proved a very successful expedition with an interesting exhibition, many cannons and some lovely parkland. And, as Michael pointed out to me, in great excitement, a map. The exhibition was very carefully done to reflect what is usually tactfully referred to as “both traditions”. It was underlined that Irishmen fought on both sides. There was no triumphalism and only sign of the unfortunate outcome for Irish catholics was a copy of this act without a great deal of further comment:
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The children were delighted by the interactive displays and the adults were interested. The occasion was only marred by an all too accurate description of the failed charge of the Jacobite cavalry. This led to the Princess moaning for the rest of the afternoon: “They killed the horses, they killed the innocent horses.” Pointing out that, as the battle took place some 320 years ago, the horses were long dead was of no comfort to herself. Even a picnic in the park in glorious sunshine was only a slight distraction from the nastiness of battle and the infinitely superior regime pertaining for horses in Narnia.
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After lunch we took ourselves off to the ruins of the Cistercian Abbey at Mellifont. The visitor centre was closed and I feared that we might not be able to get to the site itself but it was open and we saw it at its best. There were few other visitors and the weather was beautiful. The children occupied themselves filling their hats with gravel and we were able to lie on the grass admiring the surroundings and imagining the cloisters.
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At about 5 in the afternoon when we returned home, I had to go into town to pick up some things. Town was hot and heaving with people, most of them sweaty, red-faced, disgruntled children in buggies. I finished my errands in ten minutes and flew home borne up on the wings of smugness as I reflected on our glorious day in the country. I am sure that this is very bad but I’m past caring.

Feis Ceoil


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The school had a singing and recitation competition on Saturday. The boys were both very brave but failed to scoop any medals. Michael took this very hard. “I try and I try, but still I don’t win,” he sobbed as the kindly adjudicator mouthed “sorry” at me over his heaving shoulders. The same adjudicator proceeded to award his sister second place in her category which she regarded as no more than her due. If I were giving out medals, I would have given one to Daniel, I think, who did his impression of a child from the Connemara Gaeltacht.

In completely unrelated news, herself walked a neighbour’s child home this afternoon and came back carrying a bag full of swag. Apparently, every day when coming home she, the childminder and the boys, meet a nice lady who lives on the street. The Princess had informed the lady that her birthday was coming, as indeed she has informed everybody. The lady acted on this information and as the Princess was passing her house this afternoon, she came out with various offerings. Unfortunately, the Princess has inherited my sense of direction so she has no idea in which house exactly her benefactress lives nor is she aware of other useful identifiers like the lady’s name. She has composed a thank you letter to hand over next time she meets the lady in the street and that is the best we can do for the moment. Who says the big city is an unfriendly place?

Another First Communion Story


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

This is one from a friend’s taxi driver. He was hired for the day of this little girl’s first communion which, apparently, is quite common. He drove her to the hairdresser, to the dressmaker, to the beautician for her nails and facial and then the child’s mother looked at her watch and said, “You know, we’re running late, we’ll go straight to lunch.” I suppose it might be apocryphal.

First Confession


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

The Princess made her first confession. It was a surprisingly nice ceremony. When I made my first confession, we were taken out of school during the day and filed into the church and into the confession box in turn. No parents were involved.

This was quite different. It was in the evening and families came in droves. The children did a little play and went up to the altar to tell the priests their sins (although as I may have mentioned before, there are no sins any more, only occasions when they don’t “show love”). The sixth class choir came as did all the teachers from the school.

Mr. Waffle and I didn’t quite know what to wear so we were somewhat overdressed for the occasion. My poor daughter was horribly nervous, mostly because she had one small line in the play which she had to deliver in front of an entirely sympathetic audience. As her moment came, she turned pink. Then she scrunched up the end of her skirt in her fist and delivered her line at great speed. Not, in fact, entirely unlike my interventions when forced to speak at large conferences.

After this, the actual confession was painless.

The church where the ceremony was held is very pretty. It’s a beautifully proportioned Victorian gothic structure with lovely stained glass. It is, however, in a very deprived part of the inner city surrounded by run down council flats, some of which are boarded up. After the ceremony we were told by the school to do something celebratory, so although it was late, we decided to take herself to a slightly old-fashioned but still smart hotel nearby for a drink. As we walked past the flats (or the flahs, as they are known locally), I was astonished to hear someone calling the Princess’s name and to see her waving merrily up at a depressing balcony. “Who was that?” I asked. “That’s X [let us call him Bronte] from my class, he lives in the flats.” Truly all human life is here. “Oh, I think he lives with his granny,” I said to Mr. Waffle, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen his mother.” “Who then is the young woman with Bronte tattooed on her lower back?” replied Mr. Waffle.

The Princess got orange juice and marshmallows from the nice waiter in the hotel. She got a sparkly bracelet from Veritas (religious goods store in Ireland, haberdashers in Belgium – I give you this information free) which was the best of an, ahem, interesting range of items. She loved it which was delightful. The whole thing was very pleasant and, I suspect, may be more successful than the First Communion day given the weight of expectation which is riding on it. Of course, she is not really prepared at all for her second confession when she’ll have to go into the box in the church, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.