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I Knew You’d Want to Know

11 October, 2023
Posted in: Family, Ireland

I cannot tell you how often I have got emails from friends and acquaintances, telling me that someone’s parent is dead saying “I knew you’d want to know.” My heart kind of sinks. I actually didn’t want to know at all and I glumly go about re-ordering my week to attend the funeral or removal, thinking that if I hadn’t known, I could just have sent a card.

One of my most used websites is rip.ie which i basically regard as a public service.

In Ireland, there are a lot of funerals in your life; that’s just how it is. You are honour bound to go to the funeral of someone you know’s parent. Unless you’re abroad. It doesn’t matter where the funeral is, if it is a friend’s parent and the funeral is on the island of Ireland, you schlep there. Sometimes the removal is sufficient. For someone less close if you have to travel more than an hour, you probably don’t have to go but context is all important and at the very least, you must send a card. There’s a whole set of unwritten rules which only fellow Irish people know how to apply and they will know, if you’ve fallen short. By God, they will know. My uncle’s funeral was on the day we were moving back from Belgium to Ireland in 2008. By car with our three small children and all the possessions the movers were not taking for us. I think, quite genuinely, my aunt never forgave me for not coming to my uncle’s funeral. My situation was not helped by my cousin (also a niece) flying home from New York to attend.

I have no idea how many dead bodies I have seen. Loads anyway. Even my kids have seen at least five or six. When I was a child and UCC was much smaller than it is today, my mother would have a look at the flag on the mast on the quad to see whether it was flying at half mast; just in case anyone was dead.

One day over the summer, I spent most of a beautiful day in the car to get to the removal of the parent of someone I worked with years ago. I was filled with rage. But when I got there I met loads of people I knew; the daughter of the dead woman was really pleased to see us all and I think it made a real difference to her at a horrible time. And I remembered all the random children of her friends who took time to come to my aunt’s funeral over the summer and how nice it was for us to have them there.

So, I suppose, yes, they’re all right, I did want to know after all.

Random Pre-Holiday Round-Up

31 July, 2023
Posted in: Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Jam season has begun. This is one of only two batches I made this year from the plum tree out the front. But it is still a lot and it looks ominously like we’re in for a bumper crop of apples as well.

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Mr. Waffle and I visited Russborough House which I can unhesitatingly recommend as a grand day out.

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I bought new shoes in Camper which I thought were trendy and comfortable. On mature reflection, perhaps trendy Granny. They cut the ankles off me and I’m still breaking them in though nearly there. I complained to herself. “What? They’re sore? But they look orthopedic!” she said, possibly accurately but definitely unhelpfully. Oh dear, perhaps a mistake.

It’s been lovely having her home for a bit. We went out for afternoon tea to celebrate.

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They had this in the hotel lobby. Astonishing, if real etc.

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Tomorrow we are off on our very exciting family holiday in Argentina. There will be no posting until we get back at the end of August. Stay tuned for a full debrief then including whether we make our connection during a two hour window in JFK. Those of you concerned about the cat will be delighted to know that relatives will be staying in our house to help ease her loneliness and, ok, crucially, feed her. I was in Tesco this morning and I saw this sad vignette reflecting the reality of the absolute wash out this July has been and can only hope that winter in Argentina will be both warmer and drier than summer in Dublin.

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Bedside Manner

17 July, 2023
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland

My 94 year old aunt is in hospital. They don’t know what’s wrong with her which is not great, I suppose but she seems comfortable enough.

I schlepped down to Cork to visit her. She was moderately pleased to see me (not as pleased as she had been to see my sister who came the day before with the Guardian) but quite tired. I sat by her bed for a good while as she dozed. I had an opportunity to overhear another visitor speaking to a pretty deaf friend who was also a patient on the ward. The visitor was a member of the 1966 hurling team which won the all-Ireland and broke Cork’s 12 year drought. He seemed in pretty good nick notwithstanding his age. He was reminiscing with his friend about the All-Stars in his day – an award for great players. He said, “Remember it was sponsored by Carroll’s cigarettes then”. O tempora, o mores.

Anyway my poor aunt is still in hospital but she seems to be alright despite the absence of any real diagnosis.

Bike Related News

15 July, 2023
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

I parked my bike in town the other day and noticed this exciting bit of van parking.

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When I came back, another van was parked there. It’s clearly a regular spot. I suppose it could even be legal but, if so, the city fathers would want to have another look at their bike lane provision.

Daniel parked his bike in town for an hour and came back to find his lock in this condition but crucially, it held and his bike was still there. A win for the €40 bike lock, I guess.

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Yesterday, in my infinite wisdom, I decided that the weather wasn’t too bad and I would cycle 10kms to the physio (tennis elbow, alas). This was a huge mistake. Here I am awaiting entry and disrobing at the physio.

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And then I had to cycle home after. My shoes are still wet.

Mr. Waffle and Dan went to see Dublin v Monaghan in Croke Park today and after my experience yesterday, I was keen to drive them but they gambled and won. They cycled there and back unscathed by bucketing rain. And Dublin won. You win some, you lose some, I guess.

Further Garden Related Excitement

14 July, 2023
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

Hold on to your hats now.

Look at this vase of flowers all of which I grew myself.

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And let us admire the amazingness of the iphone camera which I used to take pictures of this bumble bee on the buddleia in the lane. Yes, I know Apple predictive text isn’t up to much but it has its strengths.

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That is all, I’m afraid.

Avondale and Other Thrilling Cultural Adventures

8 July, 2023
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Travel

I dragged the guys out to the birthplace of Charles Stewart Parnell. I would say mildly successful. We did the walk through the forest treetops (tame) and the slide (impressive looking but surprisingly tame also). I hadn’t planned to do it myself but the bored teenager at the top told me the youngest person down it was 14 weeks (in a parent’s arms) and the oldest 96 so I reckoned I would be ok.

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There was no queue which, honestly, was a big part of the attraction. Generally the queue lasts for hours. Yes, really, like a Disney ride.

The house itself has been lovingly restored and it’s worth a visit but the guided tour was a bit too long.

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We got to see Kitty O’Shea’s wedding ring made by the man himself from gold panned in the Avoca river.

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Mr. Waffle and I went to see a truly awful film called La Syndicaliste mostly because we heard a really amazing podcast about the story it is based on. It was on the regularly excellent Doc on 1 series. It’s about a trade unionist in France who gets attacked. The main character’s name is Maureen Kearney and she’s Irish. They didn’t change the name or delve into the back story in the film. The main character is played by Isabelle Huppert who has a very French accent when she speaks English which is just weird. In the podcast one of the things that strikes one is that even though this woman is married to a French man, has French children and has lived there for years, she is still a foreigner and that element is obviously lost. It’s not a fatal flaw. The fatal flaw is the script which is a real shame as it’s such a good story. I seriously recommend the podcast.

I took Daniel to a GAA match for the first time in ages.

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I was traumatised to discover that it was the exact same place that I had taken him the last time I went to a match with him where I got soaked. Did I get soaked again? Yes, yes I did.

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But at least I’m not sporting the same kind of injuries as he is.

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