Reading etc.

Late June/Early July Round Up – Bringing you Right Up to Date – Thrills

6 July, 2024
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc., Siblings

Friday, June 28, 2024

I was travelling to Cork for the the weekend and began receiving increasingly apocalyptic messages from the train people about how busy it was going to be. There were matches on, and festivals and concerts. As Mr. Waffle put it, “Overcrowding Taylor’s Version”. Honestly possibly followed by “I’m the problem it’s me”. It turns out everyone in the country is a Taylor Swift fan. Anyway, the trains were grand, you will be relieved to hear.

Saturday, June 29, 2024

The reason for my trip to Cork was to visit an old school friend. She has moved to the US and has an American husband and four American children but she bought a house in Kinsale years ago and they come to Ireland for a fortnight every summer. Genius.

I took the bus from Cork to Kinsale to see her. I haven’t been on the bus to Kinsale in years. The last time I took the bus, it was ancient, drafty, irregular and the journey took about an hour. Well, well, well things have changed I can tell you. It was a private operator (yeah, I know, they hoover up the profitable routes etc.) and the bus was convenient, punctual, clean, comfortable and speedy. It only took 25 minutes to get to Kinsale which is faster than I would do it in the car. God I was delighted.

My friend met me in the car park in town. She and her husband had had terrible food poisoning during the week and they were both still feeling a little delicate but definitely on the mend. She and I went out for a walk to the Bulman – a classic adventure – and had lunch. She couldn’t face the mussels – and who could blame her? – but I can confirm that they were very satisfactory.

Then we went back to her house so that I could inspect her children. They get bigger all the time don’t they? Her eldest son has just finished first year in college and her only daughter is starting in the autumn. All three boys still look more of less the same but her daughter has really grown up. She is a very pretty young woman and she made me feel about 102 through no fault of her own; it’s just I remember her aged 3.

While I was there, this super yacht passed by and apparently it belongs to some very rich American family who spent €80 million on it. My friends tell me the super rich Americans have bought the lovely house where my great uncle and aunt lived in the ’50s. I can tell you, the more I hear about this house, the greater my regret that my great aunt decided to sell it and move back to the city after my great uncle died. Oh well. I’m not super rich, but I’m happy.

My friend and I went back into town, explored the shops and had a cup of tea. The rain had held off for our walk in the morning but it made up for it in the afternoon. Still all grand; Kinsale is well supplied with shops worth exploring.

I was really glad I made the trip; my friend has made such an effort to stay in contact with her Irish friends and family and I am always impressed by her dedication. We met in New York last year when I was having my delightful break from work. Possibly there will be more of this kind of thing in our future.

I was staying in my brother’s house as my sister had visitors (she is in my parents’ house and my brother is in my aunt’s house which is next door, I am not sure how any of us feels about this) but I dropped in to see her in the evening. All very pleasant.

My brother had gone up to Dublin that afternoon (it’s like Lannigan’s Ball) so I had the house to myself for the evening.

Sunday, June 30, 2024

While I still bitterly lament the demise of the Crawford Gallery cafe (they have a new tenant, not at all as good), I am becoming very fond of the Good Day Deli which has an strong rus in urbe vibe and very good food.

After a quick breakfast and a farewell to my sister, I hightailed it back to Dublin. Not though before my sister had shown me a big picture of my mother and two of her classmates on the front page of the Irish Times. I can only speculate that the sight of a woman getting a master’s in science snagged the editor’s interest in the 1950s. I would say that was probably the last time a UCC conferring has featured on the front page of the Irish Times as they don’t like to include content from beyond the Pale, if at all possible. I have to say, not a great photo of my mother but there you are, exciting all the same.

Also, at the opposite end of the academic journey, my sister had found my father’s progression card from kindergarten to first grade. Goodness, gracious me, that card has had quite the journey.

Monday, July 1, 2024

Mr. Waffle and I went to see “Inside out”. It’s the kind of film that’s better if you have a young child to hand who can be persuaded to go with you. We did not.

Tuesday, July 2, 2024

Herself returned home. Let joy be unconfined etc. It is nice to have all five of us together.

Friday, July 5, 2024

I worked from home and so was in a position to see two of my three children go out for a morning run around the park. Michael a boy after my own heart, stayed in bed (he was up all night talking to his friends and following the UK general election). Where will it all end?

The Princess, Daniel and I went out for lunch together locally (Mr. Waffle was at a conference and Michael has no interest in food – how can he be my child?) and very pleasant it was too.

We spent the evening with all five of us hunched over the dining room table booking our summer holiday. Not everyone is available at the same time. The logistical challenge has left us all in an enfeebled state.

Saturday, July 6, 2024

I went to the Women Impressionists exhibition in the National Gallery. It was fine and I might go back and have another look but I was not overwhelmed. It had only four women impressionists – are there more? Don’t look at me. Berthe Morisot, Mary Cassat and Eva Gonzalès I had heard of but Marie Bracquemond was new to me. I am scheduled to go to a lecture on the exhibition next week and perhaps I will be in a better position to appreciate it thereafter. It’s one thrill after another here, right?

Travel and Culture

3 June, 2024
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Travel

Mr. Waffle went to La Rochelle on a work soccer trip. I begged him not to have a heart attack; he did not and a good time was had by all etc.

Daniel went on a post-exam trip to Sardinia with his fellow students. Hats off to the Airbnb owner who thought it was a good idea to have 14 students in his villa. It took them 45 minutes to walk from the villa to the beach and an hour to walk to the nearest shop. They were car free by necessity. Notwithstanding these significant difficulties, a good time was, almost miraculously, had by all.

At home, rather more prosaically, I went to the RHA annual exhibition. Not too bad. My favourite rotating exhibit is below.

But I liked quite a number of things. It compared favourably with the TUD graduate show (as it ought, I suppose) which I did not hugely enjoy. In previous years there were more paintings, I love a painting. Though I did enjoy talking to the young game designers who, very patiently, talked me through their video games. And I liked the large lego characters so it wasn’t a complete washout.

I also liked the view.

I was at the Hugh Lane gallery recently (where a lot of stuff is in storage as they are about to do a job on the roof) where you can have the impressionists pretty much to yourself which is enjoyable. Hugh Lane who led the campaign for the gallery of modern art – and donated many of its pictures – had a great eye. He loved Mancini though who has not really stood the test of time – I don’t mind him but he’s not exactly a name to conjure with. Lane’s own portrait by Mancini is slightly (presumably unintentionally) hilarious.

I went to hear Olivia Laing talk about her work in a tent (Dublin Literary Festival). The Princess gave me one of Olivia Laing’s books for Christmas and I have not yet read it: on the strength of the talk, I will throw myself into it in due course. I read an interview with Olivia Laing where she said that her mother always says to her “Why don’t you ever tell Irish people that your mother is Irish?” I was quite disappointed that she didn’t follow that advice as we would have loved that in the tent.

I went to a talk in the library about servants in the big house. More interesting than I expected. More Irish people rising up the ranks than I expected; I thought all of the upper servants were imported from England but apparently not. Another day, I tried to go to a consultation in the library but when I got there it was closed and I was directed to another branch. I was filled with rage and fired off an indignant email. Oh God. It wasn’t too bad but I probably would have worded it differently if I knew there had been a death in the service.

Mr. Waffle and I went to the Maritime museum in Dun Laoghaire on a rainy Sunday. It is very much a rainy Sunday activity. However, you see below the highlight, a rotating lighthouse light taken from a real lighthouse (in Howth across the bay) when it was decommissioned. It sits on 14 litres of mercury which feels like a disaster waiting to happen but so far so good.

As part of our going commitment to the art of film, Mr. Waffle and I went to “Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga”. A terrible mistake. Some people liked it, I gather. We were not among their number.

Mr. Waffle and I went back to Altamont House. Still lovely. The house is closed but I am now solidly of an age to enjoy gardens. I recommend.

For reasons I won’t bore you with ( you thought there was no editorial function? Think again) Mr. Waffle and I went in to Halford’s in Carlow town to buy a bike rack on the way back. Staff were very pleasant but had no knowledge of bike racks. I really am afraid that disaster will befall me in England as I try to bring home the Princess’s college bike.

My friend had free tickets for Bloom (a garden festival in the Phoenix Park) and asked me whether I would like to go. I had been once before and not enjoyed it much but going with a friend just made it a much better adventure. Had a great time.

Gutted that I have to go back to work tomorrow after the bank holiday weekend. It seems so wrong.

Last, but by no means least, our local film maker is making another documentary which meant that he could not chair the residents’ committee AGM so Mr. Waffle was, slightly to his chagrin, in the chair. The film maker was filming it as part of his film – who is going to buy this documentary we ask ourselves? However, I guess he knows what he’s at as he’s had loads of things in the cinema and on the TV so this could be Mr. Waffle’s ticket to fame. Mr. Waffle is unconvinced.

Bank Holiday Round Up

7 May, 2024
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc.

I had a bank holiday filled with domestic admin and I now feel filled with virtue but I can’t say that it was my best weekend ever.

We made some effort to tidy the garden (to be honest largely unavailing) in advance of Mr. Waffle’s mother’s cousin coming to fill us in on family history. As befits an engineer, he had a tabbed lever arch file to go through with us. Interesting, in fairness, but a lot of information.

May always reminds me of Marian processions when I was in school as a child and all the Marian hymns which I love. I was not let down at Sunday mass when our (pretty conservative musically) former elderly choir mistress got up at the end of mass and told us all to sing along to “Bring Flowers of the Fairest”. Satisfactory.

In general I believe that May is Ireland’s loveliest month but that has been a challenge to believe so far this year. There has been a surprising amount of rain.

Daniel who finished his end of year exams last week has been out non-stop (sample text received at 5.50 am -“Staying at M’s house, won’t be home” – some of this think that if you’re not in by ten to six, you’re already not home for the night) living his best life undeterred by the rain. He thinks that his exams went ok bar one. We remain optimistic. He said that although the exams may be harder, the stress is far less than the Leaving Cert. This does not reflect well on the Leaving Cert, I feel. God knows, I don’t begrudge him his fun, he has worked like a dog all year.

Mr. Waffle and I went to see “The Fall Guy” on Sunday night. Despite poor reviews (the Irish Times, for example, called it a “tragically unfunny spittoon of bad ideas”), I enjoyed it. I used to love the series with Lee Majors when I was a child (remember, people, we just had one channel and we took what we got and liked it) and mortified Mr. Waffle by singing along to the theme tune when it was played at the end of the film. A win.

On Monday we cycled in the park in the rain (maybe not the outing I was hoping for), I took both boys for driving practice and we spent hours trying to figure out the logistics of our summer holiday and who will be coming and who won’t (herself may have an internship, Daniel may have resits). Preliminary work has been completed. I also booked a ferry to pick up herself in England at the end of term; a hotel for a 60th (I know) we are attending in Donegal; and a flight to go on a weekend away organised for the end of the Princess’s exams (if you were not keeping up, her finals are this year). You think this leisure activity organises itself? #mymiddleclasshell

I now find myself home alone on a Tuesday night because Daniel is out again; Michael is at the cinema (though exams start Thursday, is this wise we ask ourselves?) and Mr. Waffle is off at football. Is this the future? I have to say it has its positives but something will have to give on dinner arrangements.

And how was your own bank holiday weekend?

Quiet Quitting

1 May, 2024
Posted in: Reading etc.

For many, many years, I always had a book in my handbag. I referred to it as my handbag book (I’m quite literal) and it was usually a small paperback and I would read it in queues or other unexpected moments in my day when I had to wait. I never found the episodic nature of this reading unsatisfactory and I was quite happy with my handbag book.

Then in 2011, I got my first smartphone. So light. So entertaining. I abandoned the handbag book and so it was for many years. But then the smartphone got a bit all consuming and gradually I deleted all the entertaining apps. So, I found myself recently going on to online banking for entertainment in a queue (insert your own joke here) and I decided that it was time to reinstate the handbag book. I am pleased with the result.

If there is a moral to this story

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, I am unsure what it is.

Weekend Round Up

29 April, 2024
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Reading etc., Siblings

This wasn’t technically the weekend (last Wednesday in fact) but I went to “The Pull of the Stars” in the Gate with a friend and it was really very good. Anything Louise Lowe directs is excellent. The theme was not particularly appealing to me (set in a maternity hospital after the Rising and towards the tail end of World War I at the beginning of the Spanish flu) and the script was a bit heavy on exposition at times but she made it work. Recommended.

I went to Cork on Friday for the first time in ages. I had to sign documents for the solicitor for my aunt’s probate as, more’s the pity, I am her surviving executrix. I took the day off so had a bit of time in Cork to myself. I went to the Market – heaving – not really for vegetarians.

I went to Home Sense looking to replace a broken teapot. I didn’t find what I was looking for but there was a statue of the Sacred Heart for €179. Hard to know who’s going to buy that one.

I took myself off to the Crawford which was as lovely as ever. There was a flag exhibition.

Our neighbours had their own special place.

I was surprised to see the crochet sphinx, last seen by me in Belfast in August 2020 (a trying time). Memorable. Like meeting an old friend.

There was this exhibit that for me definitely falls into the “But is it art?” category but when I showed it to Mr. Waffle (our chief laundry officer) on my return home he was quite taken with it.

They also had this fantastic “Diary of a Victorian Dandy” series. The pictures are nearly life size and very clever and striking in the flesh as it were.

After my afternoon of art, law and commerce I headed towards my brother and sister’s houses. My parents and my aunt lived next door to each other. My sister has bought my parents’ house and my brother is staying in my aunt’s so that the generational pattern is repeating. Neither of them likes it when you say that. My sister is getting lots of work done so I was staying with my brother and aside from being freezing, the house was fine. When will it stop being perishing?

On Saturday my sister and I went through one of the wardrobes in her house. It contained, I fear, a range of toys purchased for my children as well as clothes of my mother’s from the 80s. I was weirdly sad to see them go. I remembered her wearing that check coat. Still it was in good nick and someone else might find a use for it. I felt a bit sad bringing the bags into the charity shop all the same. Still it is done. I felt very virtuous afterwards until my sister suggested going through one side of the bookcase. Having briskly disposed of the clothes, I found the books much harder. I gave my sister a pile to bring in the car next time she comes to Dublin (I was travelling by bike and train which does not readily lend itself to transportation of large piles of books). She will, inter alia, be bringing to my house in Dublin a brochure printed in Cork in 1929 celebrating the centenary of catholic emancipation; King Albert’s book produced to help Belgium in World War I; a world atlas from 1958; and a Heath Robinson book of contraptions. Eclectic. Catholic even.

That evening we went to a long deferred birthday dinner for me. My brother had booked this rather nice restaurant; all three of us went and he paid. We had the tasting menu and we all waddled home contentedly after.

On Sunday I was up with the lark to get the train that got into Dublin at lunch time as I had my Sunday afternoon book club and I was determined not to miss it. And very pleasant it was too. I feel a bit tired today though after my weekend of middle-aged dissipation. And how was your own weekend?

A Full Programme of Activities

21 April, 2024
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Hodge, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc.

I haven’t been on since before Easter. I am sure that levels of concern were high but, fear not, I am back with a detailed and fascinating report.

Holy Saturday, March 30

Herself was back from England for Easter. She pointed out that next door’s daughter was not back from Scotland and that I should rejoice. Herself has got her finals at the start of May and this is making her tense. We did watch “Irish Wish” together during the week which is an insult to the people of Ireland but great fun for spotting the locations, all of which we knew, and mocking the premise. Thrillingly, one of my brother-in-law’s rich friends who has retired and yet is full of energy (he climbed Everest for example) is one of the extras. A very rewarding view. And I cannot recommend highly enough this review of it by Patrick Freyne which is the funniest thing I have read in some time.

We went into town and bought a present for her American friends. She had wrangled money from college to fly to America and meet the subject of her dissertation. Not too shabby. A friend was kindly putting her up in New York as the grant money was not infinite.

We went to Easter mass that evening. I love when the church is in darkness and the congregation are all given candles to light. However, it was an hour and 40 minutes. What are we? Orthodox? As one of the kids said: You know you’re in trouble when they’re on the 7th reading and the next thing is the opening prayer.

Easter Sunday, March 31

We had Mr. Waffle’s siblings and families around for lunch. He cooked. It went pretty well I think and it was great to see everyone. Almost relaxing as Mr. Waffle cooked. I am sorry I forgot to take a picture of our table set for 12 as I was able to deploy a great deal (though by no means all) of my mother’s good ware of which I have now taken ownership. I am putting it in the dishwasher willy-nilly. So far so good.

Monday, 1 April

My sister-in-law was keen that we should all do a walk in Glendalough which her mother’s walking group had said that her mother really enjoyed. We all went except my poor nephew who is doing the Leaving Cert and felt he needed to study. His surprise replacement was his extremely sprightly 85 year old grandfather who had flown in that morning from Palermo (he’s Sicilian). As he trotted up the reasonably steep path beside me, I asked what time he had got up at to catch the flight. He would have had to get up at 4 had he not already risen at midnight to watch some Italian win a tennis match in America or possibly Australia. He tells me he’s writing a book about Irish saints and holy people featuring, inter alia, Blessed Thaddeus McCarthy (a Cork gentleman about whom I know very little) and he will send me the pages to review. He is indefatigable. Both he and my 6 year old niece (the youngest of the party) completed the – slightly curtailed for the capacity of the group – walk without any difficulty. My brother-in-law had got directions from my mother-in-law’s friend and while he was slightly scathing about the “turn right at the big tree” nature of the directions, they turned out to be quite effective.

The weather was a bit drizzly (certainly nothing like the 30 degree weather they had been enjoying in Palermo) but it held off. Given that the walk was short (4-5kms), the views were pretty good.

We all thought fond thoughts about my lovely mother-in-law who enjoyed the walk so much. And it only started to absolutely pour rain as we arrived in the pub for lunch. A definite win.

Saturday April 6

Nothing else happened during the week except that a friend of Michael’s said he would like one of the typewriters I have been collecting from Cork.

Look, in the end, I gave it away but kept all my exercises from the typing course I did in the summer of 1987 when I learnt to touch type – honestly a great investment. To everyone’s relief, including possibly yours, I have just thrown out the sample typed up letters, articles and menus with the errors circled.

Having lost my waterproof trousers during the week – I must have put them down somewhere in their handy bag – I decided it was time to invest in new waterproof gear. I had heard much about “Rains” gear so I invested a spectacular amount. I can attest that it is, so far, waterproof (my old gear let in water at the elbows and knees) but I do not accept that it is fashionable. On the basis that waterproof gear just isn’t.

Sticking to my new year’s resolution, Mr. Waffle and I went to the cinema. We saw “Io Capitano” which is a fictionalised account of two 16 year old boys making their way from Dakar to Sicily as illegal migrants. It is harrowing though I must say beautifully shot and acted. It does not make you feel good about being a European.

Sunday 7 April

I feel very well equipped to write a book called something like “Gentle excursions for the middle aged about an hour’s drive from Dublin”. Mr. Waffle and I made what could be called a research trip.

The paper on Saturday had a list of under-appreciated beauty spots. The article said words to the effect of “Yeah, Glendalough is terrific but it’s full of tourists – try Fore”. Having visited Fore, I would say that Glendalough is safe enough.

Not that Fore is bad. The article recommended that we begin our adventures in the local cafe which has information on Fore and its attractions. We told the lady in the cafe we had come to her on a recommendation from the Irish Times and she was touchingly delighted. Mr. Waffle wrote to her with a copy of the article after we got home and she wrote back to him thanking him for the article and sending him a picture of Fore Abbey. That gentle interaction which almost seems from a former age is a good example of the quiet charms of Fore.

There’s a former hermit’s tower. You get the keys to go in from the local pub.

There is an old church in ruins and beside it the hermit’s hangout which is an older structure on to which the local bigwigs – the Nugents- added a Victorian nave.

It’s surprisingly atmospheric inside. And obviously, you have it to yourself as you are the only one who has the keys from the pub.

Patrick Begley who died in 1616 was the last hermit in occupation.

From the ruined church there’s a good view of the ruined abbey – Henry VIII has a lot to answer for:

We dropped the keys back to pub and went to explore the abbey.

And zero effort wasrequired to get photos without anyone else in them. We pretty much had the place to ourselves until a family arrived with a number of children to climb the walls. I’ve been that soldier.

We then went for a short circular walk back to the town. A bit flat but that’s the midlands for you. Basically perfectly pleasant until the heavens opened but it stopped again shortly. The only true thing that is in Irish Wish is when the love interest says , “Don’t like the weather in Ireland? Wait five minutes.”

At each of the village there are stone gates. These are all that remain of the walls that once surrounded the town. It’s part of the Irish walled towns network but I think this is really pushing it.

Anyway when we got back to the village we had a drink in the pub before going on to explore Tullynally castle, ancestral home of the Packenhams. It’s huge and, God, really ugly. I don’t know what Francis Johnston who was employed to gothify it was thinking.

Distance lending enchantment to the view or arguably, to paraphrase a line my mother used to enjoy quoting – “where every prospect pleases and only man is vile”.

The castle was closed on Sundays but the gardens were open to the public and huge. Though it lashed rain prior to our arrival, the rain stopped when we emerged from the cafe and we spent a good hour walking around the grounds. Lovely.

Monday 8 April

I had a baptism preparation meeting. Will I ever get out of this? My children are in college. My fellow sufferer said that when she went to her baptism prep meeting with her first baby (now in her teens) the prep team were in their 80s. We’re doomed. Anyway there were three lovely couples. All fine but I raced away afterwards as I was hosting bookclub that evening. It was a slightly exhausting but nonetheless satisfactory evening.

Wednesday 10 April

Herself came back from America some time before the crack of dawn. Her time there was full of incident: her friend got sick; there was a huge storm; there was an earthquake; and then there was the eclipse and the plague of locusts. Only one of these is made up. Notwithstanding the various natural phenomena she had a terrific time and is keen to go back. I am horrified at the prospect. It’s a lot further away than England. But she loved, loved, loved New York.

She brought us all back presents. I got a tea towel and I was delighted. If you had told me when I was 20 etc. It was from some trendy spot in Brooklyn where all the stuff was made locally or in Kyrgyzstan. Surprising.

Thursday 11 April

Herself was due to turn 21 on the 12th so we went out to dinner for her birthday. One of her siblings had tickets for a ball on the Friday so we went on the Thursday. We were all making our way there from our diverse locations.

Mr. Waffle was there first. I got this message from herself as I was leaving the office.

Followed quickly by this one.

I texted Mr. Waffle an update and he replied sadly, “Sometimes I wonder if my family is German at all”. Still once we got there a good time was had by all.

Friday 12 April

Herself turned 21. I was surprised how big a milestone it felt even now when 18 is the age limit for everything. Though herself pointed out, having been in America the previous week, this is emphatically not the case everywhere.

She asked, “Where is my birthday post?” I was touched that she would want one and it will follow just as soon as I do posts on her siblings whose birthdays were on September 27. This is a demanding hobby, I can tell you. Anyway, the summary is that she’s great. Honestly, she really is.

I asked whether she wanted anything special for dinner and she asked for spaghetti Amatriciana. To my absolute astonishment we got guanciale from the Italian wholesaler down the road and it was pretty good although I significantly underestimated how long it would take and we ate at 9 so possibly anything would have tasted good by then.

Saturday 13 April

Mr. Waffle, like all Dubliners, hates Temple Bar but I have a soft spot for it. We went in there for a nice breakfast. Then we took in a photographic exhibition that Mr. Waffle had read about in the the Guardian (somehow better than the Irish Times, doubtless a post-colonial hang up). The exhibition was mostly photos of the Troubles but some from the South as well. The photographer was a Japanese guy who made his name in Vietnam as a war photographer. He moved to Ireland in the late 60s with his wife and children. Worth a visit.

When we emerged, we heard the sound of singing. I realised that it was the Messiah anniversary performance. The Messiah was first performed on Fishamble Street. The concert hall where it was held is long gone but every year there is an outdoor performance on the street nearby. So delightful. Even if we only stayed until the rain started, unlike the Lord Mayor who looked gloomily resigned to staying put for the duration. Is Temple Bar not pretty good notwithstanding all the pubs and tourists?

My sister arrived in the afternoon with presents for everyone. In particular herself who always does very well from my sister and brother (she met him earlier in the week for lunch and I gather it was a satisfactory engagement from her perspective, he hasn’t said) at birthdays and indeed other times.

My sister also brought four photo albums from the attic for me. There were photos of the burning of Cork that my Uncle Dan took in 1920. This is a great photo of my father at school in South Pasadena in the late 1920s/early 30s before the family decamped back to Ireland. My father is fifth from the right. If any of the others are still alive they would be 99 or so, so I suppose all dead now. But you never know. There are loads of photos from when my grandparents and my father and aunt lived in California.

I actually recognised lots of the pictures of my great aunts and uncles but by no means all. Labelling is very inadequate. For example there are many pictures from the 20s of people in Paris or Milan or whatever. The locations are instantly recognisable Paris (Eiffel Tower), Milan (cathedral) but the people are often a mystery. Labelling a picture Eiffel Tower is USELESS. Tell us who the people are. There are many, many more like this in Ireland. This tiny cyclist is a classic. I think it could be my father from his cycling tour around Ireland with a friend when they finished school in 1943. But honestly it could be anyone.

But were you wondering where it was? I bet you were, well not to worry because someone has gone to the trouble of clarifying that. Look at this and imagine the sound of audibly gnashing teeth. I enjoyed the several attempts to spell tunnel also but let he who is without sin etc..

As well as all her presents, my sister had made bets on a range of horses in the Grand National for all of us. The excitement. My mother used to do this when we were children but I hadn’t watched it in years. And then Daniel’s horse won! I don’t think this has ever happened in all the years we watched with my parents. Herself got a horse called Mr. Impossible who provided all the entertainment. He managed to unseat his rider relatively early on but not before he had provided endless enjoyment to those watching (except herself). The newspapers described him as “quirky”. This is fair. Apparently, recently as Leopardstown, he refused to start at all. A horse with a mind of his own.

Sunday April 14

Herself went back to England at the crack of dawn. Her father took her to the airport and it was bright and finally felt like spring – it feels like it has been grey and rainy since the end of last summer. It’s always sad when she goes.

I took myself to a worthy talk on the latest exhibition in the Gallery “Turning Heads” which is head studies by Dutch painters – Van Dyck, Rubens, Rembrandt etc. Though technically is Rubens Belgian as from Antwerp? I suppose not as there was no Belgium then (welcome to the inside of my head). Fine but perhaps I was not in the mood for it.

Monday April 15

Still at it with the new year’s resolution – we went to “The Teachers’ Room“. This is a German film about a school where there are accusations of theft and everything that can go wrong does go wrong in the investigation and Mr. Waffle kept muttering about fair procedures. Good but definitely worthy.

Wednesday April 17

I took a half day from work and we went to see “Philadelphia Here I come” where Michael, she said proudly, had one of the lead roles. It’s set in rural Ireland in the 50s/60s and it’s about a young man who’s emigrating. One actor plays his outer voice (Michael) and another guy plays his inner voice. I thought Michael was excellent. I’d never seen the play before and I found it really, really sad. Mr. Waffle said to cheer up as Michael was not in fact emigrating to Philadelphia in the morning. Afterwards Michael came out and smiled (as we thought) at his proud parents, but some young girl flew past us and gave him a big hug. Should have gone to specsavers etc. Still, all good.

Thursday April 18

Mr. Waffle was away for work and I abandoned my children to go to see an exhibtion based on the Druid O’Casey trilogy of plays. Grand and fun to be brought in on my friend’s Druid membership. And we had dinner afterwards while my children at home dined on take away pizza. At least Daniel did, Michael was out late every night this week, returning ravenous at midnight each day.

Friday April 19

Mr. Waffle came home. Hurrah. We were all delighted but the cat was ecstatic. She was really concerned about her food security in his absence.

The run of Michael’s play finished and he arrived home exhausted but pleased, I think.

Saturday April 20

An absolutely glorious day which really highlighted that some work needed to be done in the garden. “The hedge hating peasantry,” as my father used to say. I worked until the compost heap and the brown bin were full and collapsed exhausted on the sofa where Daniel and I watched the end of Dune 2. Overrated in my view.

Mr. Waffle told me that Mr. Incredible was running in the Scottish Grand National and I was moved to put a fiver on him each way. The paper said he was well rested after the Grand National at Aintree. Indeed.

He was out of the race before the first fence. To add insult to injury, other Willie Mullins trained horses came in first, fourth, fifth and sixth. I think our relationship with Mr. Incredible and his quirky ways may be drawing to a close.

In other news, Mr. Waffle is enjoying the AI art generator functionality.

Sunday, April 21 – today, I have caught up with myself at last.

The weather was beautiful (apparently this weekend is our summer, sigh). I was delighted that we already had a plan. Is there anything more stressful than fine weather in Ireland and no plan to take full advantage of it? I was very amused when in Kamila Shmsie’s book “Best of Friends”, the narrator’s father is on holiday with her in England from Pakistan (where presumably he has plenty of sunshine) and – as he is taken out to yet again enjoy the sunshine he basically says, “Would it be possible not to take advantage of the weather some time?”

Anyway, Mr. Waffle and I had planned to go for a walk in Mullaghmeen forest in Westmeath. I had never been but he told me that his mother always tried to get there at this time of year to see the bluebells. It’s a beech forest and carpeted in bluebells. It was lovely and really quiet. We hardly saw any other people. It really made me think of the wood between the worlds in CS Lewis’s “The Magician’s Nephew” – so quiet and peaceful.

You’ll have to take my word for it that the bluebells were lovely as the pictures don’t really do them justice.

We were slightly exhausted after our longish walk in the forest but very pleased with ourselves. Would recommend (part of my continuing programme of gentle outings for the middle aged within an hour’s drive of Dublin). After our walk we were, in fact, adjacent to Tullynally castle where we had so recently disported ourselves so went back there for a restorative cup of tea after our exertions – and very nice it was too.

And how have things been with you?