belgianwaffle

Ireland

Galway


Posted in: Ireland

I am in the West staying with a friend. I took my bike and it hailed on me as I cycled from the station to her house. As I pulled up the zip of my coat over my face to shield myself from stinging hail I caught it in my lip. And then I got a puncture in my back tyre.

The pictures don’t really convey the driving wind and hail. But look at that palm tree in the distance regretting its choices.

So far I’ve been impressed by the slower pace and friendliness of Galway after my time in the big smoke. I rang a bike repair shop to see when I could book in for a repair and the (Polish, I think) man said to drop in whenever. This compares favourably with my local bike shop in Dublin where you will be laughed at if you even try to drop in without appointment. On the minus side I appeared to be the only person on a bike in Galway. The weather was terrifying though.

I spent the afternoon cowering in my friend’s apartment looking at the rain and the waves. Then, after she finished work, we took a taxi into town. The Christmas lights were very pretty and somehow more romantic in the lashing rain with the wind from the sea blowing hard. Like defiance against the elements.

We went into a restaurant in a stone cottage right beside Spanish Arch and the sea spat beside us. Galway city is right on the sea in a way that Cork and Dublin aren’t. When we finished our (delicious) dinner, there were gangs of teenagers out and about celebrating their junior cert results in the rain. I couldn’t help worrying that some of them might fall in to the water as they partied at the unprotected quayside. Living on the edge here.

More Galway tomorrow.

Alas, alack


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

I went to the physio this morning. She used to be up the road but is now miles away. I cycled 20kms again today to get there and back. I am exhausted.

Anyhow, she poked at my knee and pronounced that I had a tear in my meniscus. It used to be called a “wear and tear” injury apparently. She didn’t seem too perturbed. She gave me some very mild exercises to do and said that my quads are particularly feeble. Great, thanks. “Do I regularly do squats and lunges?” I mean, obviously not, we both know this. Do I have leg weights that I can attach to my ankles? Of course I don’t. I will be taping bags of rice to myself as a practical alternative.

She thinks it will be better in 6-8 weeks and I am to go back to her in a fortnight. Dr. Google is much less sanguine but I am ignoring him as much as I can.

She says to keep cycling and walking so that’s something, I suppose.

Home


Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Siblings

Regular readers will be aware that I am from Cork and although I have now lived for longer out of Cork than I did in it, it will probably always be home to me. When my father died in December 2020, I remember thinking that for the first time I had no home in Cork. Your parents’ house is your house, it is, as my mother-in-law used to say, “where they always have to take you in”. A slightly grudging formulation I always felt, I mean surely home is where they always want to take you in?

I was delighted when my sister said that she wanted to buy my parents’ house. It was the best possible option for me. The house would stay in the family and someone else would, realistically, have to go through the lifetime’s worth of stuff accumulated by my parents. Probate took a while and so did the conveyancing process but now the house is finally my sister’s. The sale closed in early November. I am pretty sure I will always be welcome to stay with my sister but, of course, it’s no longer my parents’ house. She has lots of plans for renovations (very much needed) and changes. It is lovely to think of the house being looked after again as it was when my mother was well. She was the most competent person I ever met, she took upholstery lessons and re-upholstered the sofa, she painted, she moved furniture with abandon. She really had endless confidence that she could do anything and mostly she could. So this is completely a good news story but still I feel a bit sad. Another door closed, the end of an era.

Stuff


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland, Siblings

You will recall that I am unwilling to let my parents’ large enough collection of Cork Historical and Archaeological annual journals go to a secondhand bookshop. I am equally unwilling to give them house room here. My sister emailed me yesterday to say that the society are willing to take the journals back. They will even collect them. They have even thanked her for donating them. A thrill.

Meanwhile, in other news, I have spent the afternoon taking apart an old fence which has been awaiting my attention in the shed for some time. I escaped almost entirely unscathed although – in quite a dramatic development – a large and rusty nail attempted to pierce me in the neck as I tried to bend back the boards. Also good, on balance.

I met a friend with sciatica this morning and we had a cup of tea and then limped around the block – me with my knee and her with her hip. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? This is not the vision of being in my 50s that Hollywood has led me to expect.

Aaargh


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Siblings

My brother decided to go to Tenerife for Christmas last year. On balance, I decided that on the first Christmas since our father died, it would not be great to leave my sister to celebrate Christmas alone with our elderly aunt (aunt is not really transportable so her Christmas has to be in Cork). We went to Cork en masse. It was pretty successful from our point of view but I would concede that it was a bit of a squash and a squeeze and, of course, my poor sister had loads of work to do as hostess.

Last year, my brother suggested putting my aunt in respite and having my sister come to Dublin. At the time, I thought it was an appalling and callous suggestion but, I have to say, now I am slightly more amenable. My brother is going away for Christmas again (Annecy, thanks for asking) and my sister has said, firmly but politely, that she’d prefer us to come to Cork after Christmas rather than for Christmas and that she doesn’t want my aunt to go into respite. I wanted to see her face to face for this to make sure that she meant it. I saw her last week, she meant it. We’re going to go down on the 27th.

Meanwhile my sister-in-law in Dublin had asked what our plans were and kindly offered to host us for Christmas day. At the time, I said that I was unsure but that we would probably be in Cork. I met my sister-in-law for lunch today and as agenda item 1, I was keen to share our Christmas news. Imagine my horror when she led with the news that, after some initial reluctance to go away for Christmas, she had taken up her brother’s invitation to spend the day in Wexford with him and his family. We both gasped on receipt of each other’s news, but sure here we are. We have agreed that we will go to their house for a family get together on St. Stephen’s Day which will be nice but not the same.

My other sister-in-law and her little family are staying in London which I totally understand.

So, in summary, I will be cooking Christmas dinner for just the five of us (possibly for the first time ever?). A change is as good as a rest, I guess.

Going Through my Camera Roll


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Siblings

I am desperate here. I am looking through my photos for inspiration but, nothing really occurs. Join me in my exploration.

Mr. Waffle and I went to Howth for a walk at the weekend. Mr. Waffle objects to the industrial chimneys in the distance (Dublin’s incinerator and the Poolbeg towers which have something of a cult following locally and really divide opinion), but I find them kind of useful for getting my bearings. Feel free to weigh in on this thrilling topic.

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What a nice photo he took of me but, why didn’t he tell me to tuck in my shirt. I suppose like my mother when I was a teenager, he thought, “Is that the fashion?” This was taken before I tripped and broke my fall by sticking my hand into a gorse bush. I looked a lot less pleased with myself then.

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What is the relationship between Dublin football club Bohemians and Berlin? Bohs are definitely poor but I’m not sure about sexy.

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When I was in Cork last week, my sister gave me a box of old curling photos which she found in the attic. Anyone for an over-exposed photo of my father in Stonehenge in a simpler time from a mass tourism perspective?

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How about myself and my brother? Funnily enough, I made exactly the same face when I collected him from Dublin airport at 1 in the morning the other day. I knew from the moment he was born that he would be trouble and I was not wrong.

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It’s funny, the picture is black and white but I remember vividly the red of that dress. No effort of memory is required for the rug which remained in use in my parents’ house until my father died. It was was in quite good nick too. They really built stuff to last then, didn’t they?

Maybe tomorrow something will happen. Hang in there.