Siblings

Long Old Month All the Same, Isn’t It?

30 January, 2022
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Mr. Waffle, Siblings

We had my brother up to stay last weekend and my sister came to visit yesterday. There’s no two ways about it even though we drive each other crazy sometimes – mostly? – there is nothing like a sibling. It was lovely to see them both. We went bowling with my brother and he won comfortably. A misspent youth, clearly.

Mr. Waffle and I attempted a cultural adventure last weekend but were refused entry to St Patrick’s cathedral on the grounds that evensong was on. “But it’s only 3.15,” I yelped. “It’s Protestant, you know,” said the security man slightly patronisingly. “But it’s nowhere near evening,” I said. He looked at me pityingly. “Let’s go to Marsh’s Library instead,” I said to Mr. Waffle. “That’s closed too,” said Mr. Annoying Security Guy.

We had a browse in the outdoor book fair in the park beside the Cathedral and bought two books (do we need more books? NO!). Then we went on to Bewley’s where we waited 15 minutes to be seated for tea, with Mr. Waffle chomping at the bit; he is not patient. As the young woman led us to our table she asked, “Have you been to Bewley’s before?” Mr. Waffle confided to me that he was very tempted to say to her, “I’ve been coming here since before you were born.” But he managed to stop himself which is just as well.

Today we went up to the Hellfire club which is a very modest walk in the Dublin mountains close to the city. It didn’t rain on us. A win.

We booked our summer holiday this evening which took a great deal out of both of us but it is done. Let us hope that we will be able to enjoy it in due course.

Small Island

11 January, 2022
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Siblings

Sample 1

You will recall that Michael and Daniel spent time on Bere Island over the summer, I’m sure. It’s a small island off the west coast of Cork. My sister’s partner’s parents have a house there. In conversation with a classmate, Michael discovered that his (the classmate’s) grandmother was from there and they owned the nearest house to my sister’s partner’s parents where the classmate went for Christmas. All three of them were there at the same time over the summer and it is almost unbelievable that they didn’t run into each other but they know for future reference and the classmate’s mother has told me that none of their outhouse doors are locked and the boys can help themselves to canoes etc if they are back again. If I’ve told you this before, I’m sorry but I have reached the age where I am allowed to repeat myself.

Sample 2

A retired colleague dropped in to the office before Christmas and a couple of us went for coffee.

Still working colleague: How are you getting on?

Retired colleague: Great, well, my health is good which is a great thing.

SWC: Yes, at our age that is a great thing. A friend of my husband’s was swimming in the sea in Kerry last summer and started to feel unwell. A man in the sea with him (a stranger to him) happened to be a GP. He asked the friend if he was ok. He said not. The GP brought him to shore where he collapsed.

RC: The exact same thing happened to me when I was in Kerry with friends over the summer. They are both doctors and this man collapsed who had been out swimming and they went to help. It was very dramatic, the air ambulance landed beside the beach and all the cows ran to one corner of the field.

SWC: And this man had to be airlifted to Cork where he was treated for a brain bleed.

RC: He was airlifted to Cork but we never heard what happened.

Yes, yes, it was the same man, same beach and, you will be delighted to hear that, although it was touch and go for a while, the man has made a complete recovery and just had an appointment with his doctor the other day who said he was fine. Retired colleague said his doctor friends had been wondering what happened and now he would be able to tell them the good news.

The Mother of All Sundays

9 January, 2022
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

I’m back to work tomorrow after what feels like a very long break. Am I looking forward to it? I am not.

Covid

Over the past week, Mr. Waffle and I have sampled a range of Dublin eateries for breakfast/brunch, which has been hugely enjoyable. However, if I get Covid, it will definitely be from the Elephant and Castle in Temple Bar. It’s not that they weren’t observing all of the requirements but it was the fullest place we’ve been in months.

So, I do not currently have Covid. However, Covid is rampant here. My brother-in-law and his wife have it – baffled as to where they could have got it. My brother is at home self-isolating as a close contact of some randomer in Spain (regular readers will recall that he was in Tenerife for Christmas). I am a bit amazed that the systems talk to each other and impressed. He’s not delighted.

I went to visit my mother’s friend from college whose husband died in August. Two of her sons live abroad with their families and couldn’t easily come home due to Covid. She and her son who lives at home had been going to host her other Dublin based son and his wife and children for Christmas Day. However, you guessed it, the son, his wife and children all came down with Covid so it was just my mother’s friend and her son who lives at home for Christmas Day. He had a really bad reaction to his Moderna booster and spent Christmas evening throwing up so it was not exactly a peaceful and joyful day as hoped.

My friend who lives in America came home with her husband and four children. There was a problem with two of the children’s passports and her husband had to stay behind with them to sort with the American embassy while my friend went home with the younger children. This is not exactly a Covid story but, of course, everything was made much more complex by having to source a Covid test (when the public system had basically given up putting additional stress on private testing) after they had solved their passport difficulties.

Culture

We went on a number of cutural outings. Somewhat satisfactory. There was an exhibition in Dublin castle on photography in Ireland from 1839. Look, ok, it was put on by the photography bit of the National Library but a bit more on the subjects of the photographs as well as full details on the photographers and their techniques wouldn’t have been any harm.

As a Trinity graduate, Mr. Waffle can get in to the Book of Kells free and bring a couple of guests. This is a genuine graduate perk, I have to concede. When he and I visited we were told that now you have to book in advance to get the graduate perk. “Will we just go in anyway?” I said to Mr. Waffle. “How much is it?” I asked the woman on security. €18 a head! We did not just go in anyway.

In other cultural excitements, I decided to go to the annual Turner exhibition in the National Gallery but there was a big queue so I was put off. Instead, I decided I would finally cash in the gallery membership I got last Christmas (2020 – I was waiting for Covid to be over so I could get full value for my annual membership, I’m tired of waiting) and go into the (cost-free to members) Jack Yeats exhibition. Was there anyone in the whole gallery who could assist me in redeeming my membership? There was not. Apparently I can ring any morning. Well, that’s helpful. A job for next week. I had a wander around the free stuff but my absence of membership gnawed at my frugal bargain-loving soul and I couldn’t enjoy it properly thinking I ought to be in the Jack Yeats exhibition for free.

Great Outdoors

We went on a couple of successful walks. Out to Howth Head early on Wednesday morning with Daniel and Michael. When Daniel saw the Summit car park he said, “Oh God not here.” This was not exactly propitious but it was a beautiful day and we had the walk largely to ourselves and, I think, despite himself, he didn’t hate it. We had lunch in Howth and were home by early afternoon filled with inner smugness (in fairness, that was probably just me).

On Wednesday night, we had a farewell dinner. I went all out on the Christmas ware which none of the menfolk appreciate at all. Their loss but it was nice to have herself defending it, even if it does make the cupboards a bit full for December (conceded).

Thursday was Women’s Christmas. The Wise Men completed their epic journey from the far side of the hand sanitiser on the hall table.

The boys went back to school. Herself went back to England. We drove her to the airport. “Did you see my whatsapp message about how hilarious it is to google “askew”?” I asked. “Yes,” she said tartly, “but I knew about it already because I have been on the internet since 2007.” Notwithstanding her very recent reminder of how keeping your parents young can be a brutal process, I was so gutted to see her go. It’s just really sad seeing a child off at the airport and I know it’s great that she’s having such a good time and loving it and the alternative would be much worse but I am heart broken. Seeing the light flooding into her bedroom every morning because the curtains are open gives me a pang and reminds me that she’s gone, probably for good. For the very first time, I am wondering what it was like for my mother when I moved abroad at 23 – and basically was gone forever. In fairness, herself is only 18 which seems so young notwithstanding her extraordinary competence at managing everything. I completely forgot to slip her any money at the airport which was something my mother did for me without fail. Happily her father remembered and had cash to hand so that she could sustain herself on her epic trek.

Mr. Waffle and I drove away from the airport in lashing rain. I had decided to go for a walk in Carlingford to cheer us up but as we drove there in the downpour I did wonder about the wisdom of that. Miraculously the weather cleared as we arrived and stayed fine while we had our walk.

Then it started to lash again. We went off to a nice lunch spot which we had found on our recon mission during the summer. A pretty successful day out.

When we returned to Dublin, the boys debriefed us on school. They said it was largely empty as half the children and many of the teachers were out with Covid or were close contacts of Covid sufferers. God, I really hope they don’t close the schools.

Change and Decay etc.

On Friday morning, Mr. Waffle and I went to a friend’s father’s funeral. It’s the biggest funeral I’ve been to since Covid. The back doors of the church were left open (Covid, I assume) and the sleet blew straight in and down the back of my neck between my scarf and collar no matter how tightly I wound my scarf. I have never been so cold at a funeral mass. They must have been perished at the graveyard afterwards although it can’t have been a great deal colder than the back of the church. The mass was lovely, if chilly. A relative was an organist and they had pieces from Fauré’s requiem. An outstanding funeral music performance (although a friend did tell me about a funeral he went to where they had a choir and string quartet – which I’m sure was excellent – upping the ante even in death). The speeches (several) were very good, particularly a granddaughter who gave a real feel for what the dead man had been like to her and her cousins (lovely, obviously). I ran into a friend – it turned out she was there in her professional capacity as president of an important national body where the dead man had been advisor to the finance committee. I tell you what, it’s weird to be part of the middle aged, middle class establishment. Where have all the grown ups gone? Dead and buried apparently.

We went home and Mr. Waffle worked for the afternoon and the boys and I took down all the Christmas decorations. What a melancholy end to the holidays. January is going to be grim, I fear, but I’ve decided we will all – Covid permitting – visit herself in England during mid-term in February. She and her brothers are, if not delighted, at least resigned.

How’s your January going?

Christmas Round Up

2 January, 2022
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Christmas Eve, 2021

My sister sent me an advent calendar which she made herself with Christmas pictures from years past which I absolutely loved.

The last picture is a still from a video 10 years ago when the boys and I were walking through Temple Bar. Michael peered at it “Is that you? I can’t believe how young you look compared to now.” Telling it like it is, our Michael.

We drove down to Cork. In a genius move, Daniel had downloaded the “Muppet Christmas Carol” soundtrack which serenaded us part of the way. Herself was testing us on the Myles Na gCopaleen “Catechism of Cliche” where I was doing exceptionally well, I might add. “You know,” I said to her, “he was from Northern Ireland.” Daniel, busy listening to the Muppets said in considerable surprise, “What Kermit?” “Yes,” said Mr. Waffle, “that’s why he’s so green.” We’re hilarious.

The in-laws in London sent us a message that some Christmas pantomime had to be cancelled as Beauty and the Beast both got Covid.

Moving on from the Muppets we had general Christmas carols and played “Il est né le divin enfant” which was previously unknown to me but appears to occupy the space in French culture which “Away in a Manager” does here (mostly for the children’s Christmas nativity play but can be gussied up for more formal occasions). Mr. Waffle said that he had heard it on Lyric FM (yes, we are now Lyric listeners – your point?) earlier and the host said, “From my French, I think that means “he is not the divine infant.” So close. And as herself regularly says to me, slightly sardonically, “context clues.”

We had three hours in the car. It’s a long time. This interaction is not untypical.

Me: Michael, you need a new guitar string, don’t you?

Mr. Waffle: Which string?

Michael (tetchily – he’s the one in the boot): Give me a minute, I’m trying to think.

Herself (briefly removing her earphones): This is exactly what will happen during all Christmas interactions.

Me: I’m sure it’s not.

Her(sticking back in her earphones) : Yes it is. Cassandra out.

Things perked up when we got to Cork. My sister had spent weeks getting my parents’ house ready for our arrival and we all had beds (not a given) and I hadn’t seen it so pleasant and organised since before my mother got sick. And she had dinner ready for us. Delightful.

Over dinner, I mentioned my father calling him Daddy and the children thought I meant their father whom I also call Daddy (I know, I know, I try not to, it’s horrendous). Mr. Waffle pointed out that my family has too few names for too many people. “Look at Dan,” he suggested. “Well, my father is dead and my brother is in Tenerife, so in fact, there are no Dans,” I said tartly. “What am I?” asked my misfortunate son Daniel who was sitting beside me. Alas.

We walked up to midnight mass at 9 in the evening. It rained on us and the church was surpisingly empty. The priest galloped through it (he skipped the second reading which I didn’t approve of but I quite liked if you see what I mean) and even with a choir (which was a lovely surprise given Covid restrictions) we were out by 9.45 for our damp walk home.

Christmas Day, 2021

We were all up reasonably early but not as early as Daniel who woke at 3 in the morning and in his excitement couldn’t get back to sleep and spent the night watching Spiderman films. Good presents all round and my sister cooked an incredible Christmas dinner for all of us and for my aunt who came in from next door.

Mr. Waffle, the Princess and I went to visit my parents’ grave – the graveyard was full of people, who knew this was a thing? I probably wouldn’t have gone myself, if it hadn’t been my father’s anniversary.

Overall, a great success and the visit to the graveyard wasn’t even too bad – it’s an interesting graveyard – mock all you like.

St. Stephen’s Day, 2021

I had booked those who were willing (Michael and herself) in to the outdoor skating circuit in Fota. It was a bit of a pain finding the entrance (don’t ask) but actually great fun when we got there. The skating circuit was small (and I have no idea how they kept it frozen) but outdoors which was lovely. And while I wouldn’t call any of us star skaters (even though herself had been to Somerset House when she was in London – less glam than Cork, I’m sure but still good practice) we appeared better at it than the majority of people. There was a very slight downhill slope which meant that for half the circuit little effort was involved. At the very last minute, as we were getting off the ice, I fell over. The injury to my dignity was severe but otherwise no lasting harm done.

Herself sent the following message to the family group chat:

Have lost £100 in an unmarked envelope (save your laughter) so please look carefully before you recycle/burn anything!

The money was a present from her aunt and my sister and I found it by going through the large green bin outside. I feel my unmerited reputation for throwing out everything was, alas, reinforced by this episode. Yeah, it was me, of course, it was me, if you leave an unmarked envelope on the floor, I will throw it out. On the plus side sorting of rubbish for environmental reasons made this a more pleasant task than it would have been in times past.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went to Kinsale to visit a friend of his who was back from London. We would have taken the children for a walk as well but it was lashing so they were spared. She renovated her house extensively and it is, I must say, extremely swish.

When we got back to Cork, Mr. Waffle asked where the Irish Times was as he had succeeded in completing the prize crossword. Back to the recycling bin. Look, if you don’t want a three day old newspaper thrown out, you have to say something. I fear my reputation may be consolidated though.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Herself and myself went for breakfast in the Crawford together. “I’m trying a look, don’t say anything,” she said slightly dauntingly before we went out. I did not say anything.

We had a look at the Rembrandt exhibition. It was grand but I am not a big Rembrandt fan, still interesting to have seen it.

Mr. Waffle and the children went back to Dublin, filling the car to the brim with loot. I stayed an extra night to meet a school friend who had come back from America for Christmas with her husband and four children.

My friend described her departure from America in such hair-raising terms (antigen test places closed due to Covid cases in the staff) that I have zero desire to do anything like this. However, she reckons that we could have Covid for ten years (she’s a doctor but a cardiologist, I really, really hope she’s wrong) and we had better start doing things. I don’t know. Contexts seem to be different in different countries.

It was interesting, the Princess was saying that in England, no one ever talks about NZ and it’s all about Sweden. We are all about NZ and their extremely successful strategies for dealing with Covid but I haven’t heard too much coverage of Sweden, a bit I mean but it isn’t the first country Irish media outlets seem to look at.

I finally (two years after my mother’s death) cleaned my stuff out of my childhood bedroom, something she had been asking me to do since 1993. To be fair there wasn’t much left – some college and school essays, old papers, a few pieces of jewellery. My sister was suitably impressed by my ability to chuck things but I think I had probably brought to Dublin years ago anything of value to me.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

I went in to the market to get a poke bowl to bring to herself in Dublin because I am a saint. The wretched Cork bike stands weren’t working in two places so this delayed me. However, I must give credit to the people in TFI who I emailed in some irritation and who replied instantly to say call us and we can re-start the screen for you. Very gratifying. Nevertheless, I was slightly late for my sister who had promised to give me a lift back to Dublin. In my defence, my sister has become punctual and that put me off.

It was nice to be home all the same. Poor next door had had Christmas cancelled as their first born despite being double vaccinated had got Covid again. They had been going to host Christmas dinner so had to dole out supplies to relations from behind closed doors. The parents and younger child had been scheduled to go skiing and were antigen testing every day. They did get off but it’s all a bit stressful.

Thursday, December 30, 2021

A friend from work and his four children came to visit. I was able to deploy my Christmas ware and also the fruits of my Christmas hampers. I was delighted with myself. He said that my kitchen reminded him of Mr. Tumnus’s and I was thrilled as I suddenly realised that this was the look I had been going for all along.

New Year’s Eve, 2021

Our Irish Times did not come but there was the neighbours’ copy on their doorstep. Later, Mr. Waffle realised that the neighbours don’t get the IT during the week and they had obviously got our copy. When he went to retrieve it, it was gone. Who were we to begrudge the poor self-isolating one a paper?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast and when we came back, we began to dole out tasks to the children. Daniel said, “I knew when I heard you come in – clompity stromp (his own invention but I like it) – that it would be empty the dishwasher, put away clothes.” I am afraid it was. I am predictable that way.

We went off for a post-Christmas visit to the cousins. Very pleasant. “Had we any plans for this evening?” they asked. I looked blank, I had completely forgotten it was new year’s eve.

Herself had to bail a bit early as she was going to the theatre with a friend (Faith Healer – it was grand).

Everything closed at 8 so she was back by half past. We all went to bed but were awoken at midnight by the quite spectacular illegal firework display nearby. We had some champagne and wished the neighbours a happy new year including the Covid one who was waving from her front door at her friends standing by the gate.

It was fine, you know, but herself said to me that all her friends in England had put up on instragram, fireworks and meetings with friends and Dublin is just dead. “There’ll be other new years,” I said encouragingly. “Not when I am 18 and new year just isn’t the same when you’re 52.” I am afraid that is unanswerable. Although when I was cleaning out my room I found a third of a pound note which I had split with two friends on new year’s eve 1989 saying that we would meet again in 1999 and put it together. Reader, we did not. But I was reminded of that very dull evening in the rugby club in 1989 when we had been reduced to tearing up a pound note for a mild thrill. I suppose what I’m saying is that not all new year festivities are what they might be.

New Year’s Day, 2022

Mr. Waffle and I went for a lovely walk. Lovely walk was lovely. We avoided the traffic chaos on the way by taking our bikes. So my walk was accompanied by a side order of smug glow.

Sunday, 2 January, 2022

Fresh from the successful walk the previous day, I announced to the children that we were going to Howth for a walk. Herself said that she planned to dedicate her day to college work but the boys and Mr. Waffle, God love them, were resigned to their fate.

When I was in mass my phone rang which has never happened to me before. It was a friend. I did not answer or check the text messages she sent but spent all mass thinking that someone we both know must have died because what else could it be to require an actual phone call.

Anyhow, when I got out it was to find that she was suggesting a walk at 2.30 in the park with a third friend. I was delighted. The menfolk graciously agreed to defer their walk.

When I got home there was a message from my brother-in-law – whom we had met on Friday – that he had just got a positive antigen test (they were going out to meet friends and he had one to be on the safe side). Herself pulled out the stash of free, yes, free tests that she had brought home from England and I twirled away (v unpleasant it was too). Negative. I told my friends, they said come on the walk anyway. I did. I mean all three of us are triple vaccinated and we were meeting outside.

And it was brilliant. There is nothing like meeting people in person. I came home full of energy and enthusiasm and tackled the old receipts and guarantees box. In no way do I have form for throwing out necessary things.

My brother is home from Tenerife and he called to find out why both recycling bins in Cork are full. What can I say, I’m good at recycling.

I hope that your own Christmas was happy and Covid free.

The Final Lap

24 December, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess, Siblings

It’s all go. I mean not as much all go as it was for my colleague who had an emergency stent fitted the other day, but pretty busy. I have to say we all got a shock when this older but apparently fit and very popular man nearly died on us in the run up to Christmas. Hurrah for modern medicine. He’s safely home and planning a quiet Christmas.

I got into the Huguenot graveyard in the centre of town during the week. It is almost always closed but a man was painting the gate and he let me slip in illicitly. There was a big plaque to Jacques de la Fontaine. I went and looked him up and thanks to the internet, I found a whole book he had written about his life. He had bad times in Cork, unintentionally hilariously described. It was strange to think of this man whose grave I pass daily having a life in Ireland a good 400 years ago. It’s all intimations of mortality around here at the moment. And also, I seem to have put out my lower back. Does this augur well for the ice skating session I have booked for us on St. Stephen’s Day? I think not.

The return of my first born continues to be a source of delight. She had three friends from primary school around for dinner on Monday. These girls who I have known since they were tiny tots of 4 have turned into beautiful, charming grown up Amazons (all very tall, I must say, something in the water?).

I was chatting to her the other night and asked whether she read the blog. A bit. “You’re funnier on the blog than in real life,” she offered. “I know what you’re thinking, you’re going to put that on the blog. Listen here, I’m more than a content farm.” Meta paragraph right here for you, all the literary tricks are being deployed.

I was amused to hear Mr Waffle talking to Michael the other morning in the kitchen before school. As I was standing in the hall I heard him ask in slightly surprised tones, “Are you following the election in Chile, Michael?” He is, apparently. This slightly nerdish streak in my children means that the Christmas receipt of school reports is generally an occasion for rejoicing and so it was on this occasion. Teachers love children with views on the Chilean elections, it appears.

We’re in Cork for Christmas. It’s quite the logistical challenge, my sister was in Dublin during the week and she brought down our Christmas presents. Like a saint she’s cooking Christmas dinner for us as well. And she took the boys off on Wednesday afternoon to her partner’s parents’ place where they spent a happy afternoon playing magic (don’t ask) with her partner and being fed by his parents. I rejoice as did they.

It was the winter solstice on Tuesday. That makes me think of my father. He was a summer person, always loved the sun and always celebrated the turning of the year with delight and a glass of whiskey. I used to ring him to wish him a happy solstice. It was this time last year that I saw him for the last time. He died on Christmas day. We’re off to Cork today and we’ll celebrate Christmas in my parents’ house tomorrow. I feel a bit sad about it. A little bit strange.

Where ever you are, I hope that your Christmas is happy and that the logistics do not defeat you. See you in January.

Oh No Redux

25 November, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Michael, Princess, Siblings

So off she went for her PCR at 11.30 this morning and at 8.15 this evening she got her positive result. Alas alack though impressively speedy work by the British testing people, I must say. I spoke briefly to her this morning and she was pretty miserable – in a bad cold kind of way – but not at death’s door.

My sister is a big fan of moonpig which does personalised cards. She went online and got the Princess a card with a personalised message and my sister’s cartoon of a corona virus on the inside. Unfortunately the site kept crashing and my sister had a lot of difficulty with it. This is why the personalised greeting card has, “Get well soon, Caroline!” on the front. The Princess’s name is not Caroline. Funnily enough when I mentioned moonpig at home, both boys said, “Uh oh, data breach,” so perhaps not where you should go for your personalised greeting cards.

In other news, we had online parent-teacher meetings for the boys this evening. This was extremely stressful. I had to be in the office and called in from there and Mr. Waffle and each boy in turn were tuning in from home. The format was five minutes per appointment. It was like academic speed dating. I turned up in other people’s meetings, they turned up in ours, I couldn’t get in to some teachers, the home team couldn’t get in to others. I mean it was better than nothing but I wouldn’t call it a triumph for new technology. On the plus side the teachers love my children. They’re both doing fine, thanks v much. My favourite nugget from the evening was the following: Michael tends to finish his in class economics exercises ahead of the other students and when he’s finished, he pulls out his book from his bag and starts reading, an activity which is apparently tolerated by the economics teacher but he is keen that Michael would stop reading promptly when class recommences. I can imagine.