Twins

Knee Deep in the New Normal

4 October, 2020
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Hodge, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Monday September 21, 2020

Mr. Waffle and I went to a nearby cafe and sat outside for breakfast. I’ve had worse. “It’s like skiing,” said he. You’re cold, you’re all wrapped up, you’re outside and it’s surprisingly sunny. Sun cream was unnecessary though. That’s as close as we’re going to get to skiing for a while, I’d say.

I ate my lunch in the park and that too was surprisingly pleasant.

Herself finally interviewed her person in the arts for her artistic school project. She really enjoyed this project and put a lot of work into it and her interviewee seems to have enjoyed it as well. We’ll get to see the finished project on the organisation’s website later in the year. Small thrills.

Meanwhile, the boys learnt how to use a defibrillator as part of their Transition Year school experience. Good to know, I guess.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, herself is now head of the student council and most powerful student in the school.

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

I forgot that it was my turn to make the sandwiches for school. Everyone survived and herself is vindicated in her decision to take over this work herself making ever-more elaborate vegetarian offerings.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

I finally got to go to my dentist for my six month delayed check-up. My teeth are fine, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear.

I rang a pub where a former colleague and I often meet for lunch to know whether they were taking outside diners (permissible under our level 3 Covid rules). Yes, normally Thursday to Sunday but not, said the barman, the following day: “It’s going to be wet, so we’ll be closed, we’re like farmers now, relying on the weather,” he remarked bitterly.

Thursday, September 24, 2020

Dan had to do his transition year exciting outside school course via zoom from home which was not at all what he had been hoping for. Alas.

As the barman had predicted, it was very wet indeed and I got absolutely soaked cycling home from work. I passed miserable groups of people eating outdoors, coats on, hunched over their food trying to avoid the rain driving in sideways underneath the canopies. I’m not sure eating out this way in the winter will be sustainable.

Friday, September 25, 2020

I ended up, yet again, working my half-day and arrived home quite late – 7ish. This meant a delayed start to cinema night – Enola Holmes (alright) – and herself had to bail and go to bed before the end of the film as, lucky her, she had extra maths classes in the morning. Unsatisfactory.

Out of the blue, Daniel said he loved the time we made candles on holidays. This was during our holiday in Kerry in 2011 when he was 6. The day as I remembered it was characterised by driving rain and misery but it just goes to show, you never know what they will like and remember.

In other news, herself has found a website which calculates your Leaving Cert points and what courses they will qualify you for. She put in my results and her father’s and told us, “You could have got quite good Leaving Certs, actually.” Since we’re both 30 odd years out of school – and thought we had both got quite good leaving certs in the 80s when we sat our exams – this wasn’t the ringing endorsement it might have been.

Saturday, September 26, 2020

Herself confided at breakfast that she had had an anxiety dream (presumably inspired by the wretched Leaving Cert.). She had been on University Challenge and the picture round had been identifying French philosophers and she had buzzed in that the philospher pictured was Sartre but it was actually Derrida. I’m enjoying the quality of her anxiety dreams.

Michael and I picked some more apples, literally the low hanging fruit. Still a great number of apples in the upper branches of the trees. Alas.

I rehung all the pictures on the landing – on what a friend of mine calls the honoured ancestors wall – to include the two new pictures of herself that I got framed. It took a lot out of me but I am very pleased with the result.

Sunday, September 27, 2020

It was the boys’ 15th birthday. When herself celebrated her 17th birthday in lock down in April, I really didn’t think we would still be here in September. More fool me. Still we were readier for it and I think they had quite a nice day. We began with an elaborate breakfast and as we sat down and I looked around at my lovely family I said, “I really don’t think I could be happier and, obviously, I don’t want to die or anything but, if I did, I would die happy.” There was a pause and Daniel said, “Well, you know what Nana always said?” “What?” I asked. Himself, his siblings and his father chorused, “Always leave when you’re enjoying yourself most.” They’re hilarious.

My sister went to all sorts of trouble for their birthday presents and they unwrapped a blizzard of things from her to add to what they had got from their loving parents and their aunt and uncle in London. Lucky boys.

Mr. Waffle and I left them to play with their new video games and went off for a walk in the Botanic Gardens which was crowded but pleasant.

I began the process of making mint jelly (which is mostly apple jelly with mint added).

A birthday post on the boys will follow in due course. Something for everyone to look forward to, doubtless.

Monday, September 28, 2020

My office is freezing. Possibly the authorities have decided they won’t heat the building for the few of us deemed essential, at least we’re getting out of the house, what more do we want? I wore a green woollen poncho type thing to keep myself warm. I thought it looked fine until herself asked me why I was dressed like Paddington.

We gave away some apples by leaving a box at the front gate. Rejoice. In fact this turned out to be successful beyond our wildest dreams and we managed to give away a box a day until the weekend.

We had my Monday night book club by zoom and one of our members pointed out that our October meeting would have been our 20th anniversary. I wish we were meeting live. It’s been great, the bookclub. One of our younger members reminisced that when we started, we were all 4/5 years older than her and we were busy admiring door handles in each other’s houses (we were all buying or about to buy houses) and she thought how dull we were, but she stuck it out and as I pointed out gleefully, there’s not really any difference between 46 and 50 so it’s all evened out in the end. I do miss meeting people in person.

The children had the day off school, possibly because everyone has suffered enough but more likely because of a teacher training day.

We’re trying a new wifi provider. Mr. Waffle had some difficulty with installation and became annoyed with people who inadvertently threw out what looked like spare packaging but was a vital part of the new infrastructure. Trying times at Waffle Towers.

I finished making the mint jelly. It’s not green naturally you know. Commercial mint jelly manufacturers add colouring. Probably not the colouring I added.

Tuesday, September 29, 2020

My mint jelly did not set. Sigh. On the other hand, it’s perfect for Halloween.

A man came to look at our upstairs bathroom with a view to getting it redone. He is to send in an estimate – perhaps a new bathroom by Christmas. Thrilling.

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

We got a note from the school that there were three additional Covid cases in the student body, but we’re all to carry on, they’ve been inspected, all is well. It’s a bit unnerving all the same.

My sister got promoted. She seemed underwhelmed but I am suitably impressed. She has a very flash new title and more money to spend. What’s not to love?

Thursday, October 1, 2020

It was a really fine day and I had lunch outside a pub with a friend but it was a bit nippy. I should have brought my Paddington poncho.

We lit our first fire of the season.

Friday, October 2, 2020

Our saviours came in the form of an organisation called Falling Fruit which picks spare fruit and gives it to good causes. They got 83 kgs of apples from our trees. We rejoice. They gave them to a cider maker who volunteered to give â‚¬80 to a charity of our choice. We sent it to Threshold which was founded by my father’s cousin so that was pleasing.

They arrived as Mr. Waffle was about to tuck into a salmon bagel and he went to the front door to let them in. When he returned, it was to find the cat tucking in to the salmon from his bagel. We thought she didn’t like salmon but it turns out she likes it if it’s wild salmon. He was summoned away again by the Falling Fruit people and this time he put a cover over his bagel. When he returned, his bagel was safe but the cat was on the work surface tucking into salmon straight from the packet where he had, admittedly foolishly, left it. Still, a small price to pay.

Mr. Waffle and herself were talking about dinners over the weekend and he said, he was missing an ingredient. “Could you substitute Delia seeds?” she asked. An understandable error.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk around the neighbourhood and I was felled by a migraine half way round. I took some tablets and went to bed for a couple of hours but I felt a bit sorry for myself.

Michael chose Gladiator for film night which I rather enjoyed -partly because the muted colour palette suited my migraine – but it is both long and bloody. Herself had to bail early again due to the ongoing demands of extra maths classes.

Saturday, October 3, 2020

I went into town to pick up various supplies. Town was absolutely heaving. Loads of people eating outside. I quite enjoyed my little trip to what felt like normality but it does worry me a bit also.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a cycle in the park which, sadly, has been re-opened to cars and is much less pleasant than it was during lockdown when it wasn’t bisected by traffic. We ran into a neighbour in the park who remarked that he had seen us in Clifden when they were driving through in the summer. Incidentally, this is why Irish people can’t have affairs.

Herself spent the day undergoing cold turkey. She’s decided she spends too much time on the internet so has locked herself off internet on her phone and given herself 15 minutes a day on instragram, twitter and tiktok. Her friend has the code to unlock the internet and instructions not to give it to her. She is bereft.

The boys went to get their hair cut. The hairdresser asked whether they were cousins and Daniel said that no, they were twin brothers. She commented to Daniel that he should share his food with his brother which when reported back to his family made us all laugh.

The boys spoke to their grandfather via Skype to thank him for his generous gift to their (frankly overflowing) coffers. It does make me sad that they can’t go to Cork to visit him.

Sunday, October 4, 2020

I cannot believe that I am saying this but I really miss mass. Extraordinary.

The weather was awful but we had a cousin and his parents around in the afternoon which really cheered us up. Everyone is fed up though. When will it all end?

Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness

20 September, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Monday, September 7, 2020

It lashed rain. Except for Mr. Waffle, we were all back at school and work – not virtually but really. It was not the weather for a real commute but we were all pretty glad to be back except Michael who is not one bit glad, not even slightly glad and pines for lockdown.

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

There were some teething problems with the boys’ new bikes. They could not keep their school bags on their new carriers. I went and attached them using my superior skills but they informed me bitterly that evening that they came off and fell into the puddles, if anything, even faster than when they had attached them by themselves. Further work required.

There was heady excitement about the filtered permeability (or bollards) at the end of the road which local councillors were to vote on. I honestly don’t know when there has been more interest in a traffic calming measure. You will be delighted to hear that councillors voted to extend the trial to end January. Yes, I know, you’re fascinated.

My sister sent the children presents to celebrate their return to school. Great excitement.

I made apple chutney. Less excitement.

Mr. Waffle seriously endangered our marriage by going out and buying four apples. I nearly had a fit. He now knows, that if he wants an apple he should get up a ladder and pick one, I’m not even making him eat windfalls.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

We discovered that Michael had no runners. I could wish that he had told us this before 8 in the morning on the day he was going to an adventure centre. He took mine. I’m not bitter.

I met a friend for lunch in town – v thrilling indeed. Slowly things are returning to normal. Rejoice.

Thursday, September 10, 2020

I picked some more apples – literally the low-hanging fruit. When will the apple harvest end? The boys did a thing that sounded like some kind of away day management exercise at school. They absolutely loved it; its the most enthusiastic I’ve ever seen them both after a day at school. When Transition Year works, it’s really good.

Friday, September 11, 2020

Yet again, I arrived at the library doors 3 minutes before closing and, yet again, I was denied entry to paradise. Yes, there’s a message there. I dropped an enormous jar of very hot apple jelly on the kitchen floor and spent the next hour mopping and picking up broken glass and it was still sticky underfoot for days. Sigh.

For cinema night, we watched “Fire Saga” which wasn’t bad but would have been better if the children had ever seen the Eurovision Song Contest.

Saturday, September 12, 2020

I got an early train to Cork. It was a beautiful morning when I arrived. It’s hard to think of anywhere nicer than Cork in sunshine. I stopped off at the Crawford gallery on the way to my parents’ house. Not one but two friends sent me this link while I was actually in the gallery. Hard to know what to say. We intellectuals are often got at.

'The definition of an intellectual in Cork is someone who goes into the Crawford Art Gallery when it isn't raining'

Top tips for Dubs heading for Cork to avoid lockdown.#askaudreyvids #askaudrey #Cork @CrawfordArtGall #Dublin pic.twitter.com/uTLRvUoVgP
— Reggie, Blackrock Road (@Askaudreylike) September 11, 2020

I see that the gallery has a new acquisition, a picture which appears in another picture – one of my favourite things.

I saw everyone in the family, my 95 year old father, my 91 year old aunt, my brother and my sister and prayed that I was not infecting them with stray germs from Covid-ridden Dublin. In my further family history explorations, I discovered that growing up my father and aunt had a terrier called Sandy whom my father cordially loathed, apparently Sandy was very nippy and it was a rush to close the gate so that the postman could get out with his ankles intact. This may explain why he was never open to getting a family dog. His father died when he was very young and he didn’t seem much of his father’s family afterwards but he asked me to check the census to see whether he had had an aunt Nan. He had. He said that he remembered her crying as she sewed black diamonds on to the men’s sleeves when his grandfather (his father’s father) died. He also said that Uncle Jack his father’s brother was very good at maths and used to give grinds. Those good at maths genes passed down to my father but skipped neatly over me and on to herself who also really enjoys maths.

Sunday, September 13, 2020

A mad dash for the train which I just about made. It turns out you can cycle from my parents’ house to the station in 20 minutes but I wouldn’t recommend it.

I got home and found that the apple jelly had failed to set. Typical.

Monday, September 14, 2020

I had another lunch out. Let joy be unconfined.

Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Lunch out again. I’m on a roll here. We discover that Michael does not in fact love working in a charity shop on Wednesday afternoons for Transition Year. Daniel continues keen though, so there’s that.

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Apple stocks are at crisis levels and there are still three trees full of apples out the back.

When I was growing up, my parents had 11 or 12 apple trees in the back gardens which were a magnet for local children who would come in and steal them much to my father’s chagrin – I remember him running out to the garden in fury and children scattering at speed. On one memorable occasion, a classmate was telling me about a great place for “slogging apples”. The expression was new to me but the meaning was clear. On investigation it turned out to be my garden which left me feeling a little awkward but she was charmed by the discovery. Frankly, at this stage I would welcome an apple slogger.

Dublin is on Level 2+ of the new national Covid plan and I reflect guiltily on my lunches out.

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Daniel is doing this course on Thursdays during Transition Year – it’s a university level taster thing. Did he know anyone on the course? Yes, Ben who he met on a summer science course a couple of years ago. They are like debutantes, these middle class children – they keep meeting the same people on the circuit.

A friend I met for lunch posted me some masks made by her 15 year old daughter. They are amazing – v. impressively constructed. Herself instantly nicked them both. I’ve ordered a couple of more as I think masks are going to be with us for the long haul.

We get an email from the principal saying that there is a confirmed Covid case in the school. Not a surprise but not exactly welcome news either.

Friday, September 18, 2020

With the greatest difficulty I acquire an Irish textbook for Michael from the Irish language bookshop in town which was closed but opened its doors to me when I tapped on the window. I was justifiably proud.

Mr. Waffle and I go out for a last lunch before lockdown. We also picked up a couple of pictures of herself I had dropped in for framing – dear but worth it. I make more jelly. It sets. What will I do with it all?

I had been going to visit a friend of my mother’s over the weekend but she says perhaps better not. To nobody’s surprise, Dublin moves to level 3 – cafes and pubs closed with only outside eating, no travelling outside the county. We probably need a bigger radiator.

This was culture night and we normally go out but not this year, alas. We watched “Being John Malkovich” for film night and it remains one of the oddest films I’ve ever seen in my life.

Mr. Waffle and I were due to go on a weekend away for the weekend in April (in Northern Ireland) and we had to cancel and replaced it with a trip in October. I very much fear we won’t be able to go in October either. Oh well. Worse things happen at sea.

Saturday, September 19, 2020

I had to take herself into town to a course so had a wander around. It wasn’t as quiet as I expected now that we are in Level 3 but it wasn’t buzzing either.

We all worked on tidying up the garden (except herself who was swotting for a physics exam on Monday) – it was effective but a bit dull. As was a trip to the tile shop to talk about the bathroom renovation. Welcome to middle age, I suppose.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

In a potential game changer development, my sister tells me that apple jelly is the base for mint jelly – just add mint.

Mr. Waffle, the boys and I played a bit of tennis.

I feel in general much was achieved this weekend, but I have had more fun weekends.

You may or may not have noticed that I have been diarying every day since the start of Covid. I just want to have some idea what on earth I am doing in this weird period when everything seems slightly the same. Feel free to look away at any stage.

Getting a Bit Closer

6 September, 2020
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Monday, August 31, 2020

Herself went back to school. It was alright. She is not loving the new uniform.

I discovered that some more people I knew were having Covid tests and having been exposed to them – even though their doctor said it was fine – I thought I should possibly stay away from other people to the extent possible.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Back working from home. Absolutely dire. Just does not suit me. Conference called in to a meeting at work where others were physically there and it is a nightmare particularly since my head was in super large high definition telly. Snapped at the poor children who tried to talk to their mother.

I was pleased to see herself had invited some friends back and they were out in the garden social distancing dutifully. They all hate the new uniform.

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

It was lashing rain this morning. Herself insisted on cycling to school because she wanted to be able to cycle home so that she would be back in time to do a practice interview. She’s doing an interview for an arts organisation – they want to get closer to young people so they had a competition open to secondary students. Prize is interviewing an artist. She has done a lot of preparation and, in fairness, the arts body has taken it pretty seriously too.

Daniel and Michael are both working in (separate) charity shops every Wednesday afternoon as part of their Transition Year work experience. It was so strange seeing them off to what were, effectively, their first jobs. They were both a bit nervous. It seemed to go fine though; they both seem to have spent a fair bit of time organising DVDs. Daniel got to spend time on the till though so that was exciting. He said that all of the customers were young alternative fashion types like his sister or old women. “Which did you prefer?” I asked. Definitely the young women. Apparently, they come up quietly to the counter and hand over their money but the old women insist on trying things on in the corner of the shop ignoring the fact that the changing room is closed for Covid and mortifying him.

Rain poured in through the roof of the utility room. Alas. We are definitely going to do work on it but at the same time, it can’t be left leaking for the next 12 months. Mr. Waffle is going to call a roofer. Oh dear.

And in the good news ledger, one negative Covid test notification. Just waiting for confirmation of a second person as negative and I can return to the office. I am surprised how much this fills me with joy.

Thursday, September 3, 2020

The boys went back to school for a couple of hours for Covid induction. There was some confusion about whether they could continue in their charity jobs or not but in the end, it was approved and they are quite pleased.

Another negative Covid test and I am cleared to go back into the office. Delighted with myself.

As ever at this time, the apple situation is critical.

Three apple trees is at least two too many.

I have made several apple tarts, herself made a very elaborate one this evening, heavily dependent on apples. We spent what felt like hours peeling.

But worth it.

Friday, September 4, 2020

I went in to the office (met loads of councillors on a site visit to the filtered permeability i.e. bollards at the end of the road – confirmed my enthusiastic support) the children went to school. Even Mr. Waffle went out for a while. This was naturally the cue for various deliveries to be made which we were then not at home to receive. I picked them up from the post office later and got sternly lectured about the quality of the envelopes that the senders were using. I got into our local library for the first time since lockdown. They’ve reorganised a bit and it’s all self-service now but nice to be back.

For film night we had “Sully”. It’s about that plane that landed on the Hudson. It’s directed by Clint Eastwood and I thought it had a very old fashioned view of men and women. Men were calm, brave and pretty much emotion free and women were incidental bit characters. Wasn’t a great film either, a bit episodic.

Saturday, September 5, 2020

The apple crisis continues unabated. I have made apple jelly. Apple chutney is in my future. You need a lot of apples to make a small quantity of apple jelly. Great news.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled into town for a wander around. It was grand and busy I thought. We had a cup of tea and a bun in the newly reopened Bewley’s cafe. Gratifying. We sat beside the Harry Clarke window and admired dutifully. Some of his stuff can be strange as well as beautiful.

Sunday, September 6, 2020

We didn’t get up to much. We forced the boys out on a lovely cycle through the park (now, sadly, reopened to cars) which they enjoyed about as much as you might expect.

And how is your own new normal going?

Re-entry

1 September, 2020
Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Thursday, August 20, 2020

It was the last day of my holidays. Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast. Our regular handyman came to the house to do various small jobs (he has finally accepted that our DIY capacities are rock bottom). I discovered the hard way that our local library now closes at 4. Herself is a bit gloomy about teenage parties she has dutifully not gone to but pictures of which fill her social media feeds.

Friday, August 21, 2020

Back to work for a half day. The advantage of working while on holidays is, I suppose, that the inbox isn’t too overwhelming on return. Scant comfort really. Mr. Waffle and I went out to a local cafe for a cup of tea and the waitress said, “Didn’t you used to go to the Pain Quotidien in town? I remember you because of the Earl Grey.” Sadly, it appears that the Dublin PQ has closed permanently. I have to tell you this is not the first time I have been recognised by someone in a cafe in these circumstances. I think I am known as “Earl Grey” lady all over Dublin.

We had our first cinema night in a while and Daniel chose “Coach Carter” which I would never have watched otherwise but we all found quite enjoyable. I think cinema night might survive even when Covid ends.

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Much of the day was spent in a vain hunt for grey school trousers for a child who is both tall and very skinny. Then we were going to a friend’s house for dinner but she got a cold and on the better safe than sorry principle she suggested that we put it back a week in case it was the dreaded Covid. Alas.

Sunday, August 23, 2020

I had an almost normal afternoon in town. I went to the shops, I had a wander round the art gallery. It was quite lovely.

Monday, August 24, 2020

The full immersive return to work experience. Could have been worse, I suppose.

The applied maths teacher has got a job in Galway. Herself was doing it outside school so it’s a bit hard to see how we are going to find someone else to deliver the course to her in Irish. The teacher called the students and said that he doesn’t want to leave them in the lurch so promised to drive up from Galway every weekend so that he can cover the course with her and the three other students who are doing it outside school. Which is pretty decent but I wonder will it be feasible?

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

We got news from the school that one of the children’s teachers had died. We were all a bit shocked. She hadn’t been unwell as far as we knew. She was about 60 I’d say and a big smoker so I do wonder whether it might have been Covid. No one can go to the funeral, of course.

Wednesday, August 26, 2020

There was a picture in the paper of first years in school with masks with the school crest on them. It felt a bit dystopian and I was pretty gloomy. Herself was concerned that her own school might follow them on the uniform/mask front as she has some pretty exciting masks that she is keen to try out in school which she believes that, based on current policy, the uniform police will be powerless to resist.

And this back to school kit in the window of the chemist’s is a bit miserable as well.

And then the latest road map is a bit off-putting.

Still on the plus side, I visited the Asia Market (enormous place on Drury Street cunningly concealed by falsely tiny looking shop front) which I found full of interesting if baffling produce and herself made dinner again.

Thursday, August 27, 2020

The children were all going back to the primary school at the end of the road. It was lovely to see them heading in on their flotilla of bikes and scooters.

Mr. Waffle mentioned to our butcher that he had seen a Northern Irish van with his name on it and was it any relation? It was his first cousin who has a butcher’s shop in Portrush. Our own butcher’s father was from Derry and his mother from the Glens of Antrim. He was born in Derry but they moved down south when he was three. Fancy that.

Michael’s school trousers which I had ordered online arrived. A perfect fit but black instead of regulation gray. Weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Friday, August 28, 2020

God, I was soaked on the cycle into work. I squelched around the building with wet feet all morning. I was on the phone to a colleague and we spent about 2 minutes dealing with a work issue and a further 20 moaning about how grim it all is. He won because he lives in Kildare and is still in lock down with his two primary age children.

I’ve been re-reading a great diary anthology this year. A lot of the diaries are from World War II and as you read them you can see how heavily it weighs on people that they have no idea how or when it will end. As a modern reader you’re thinking, June 1943, only two years to go but they have no idea. It’s strange to me writing this to find myself in a slightly similar situation with Covid – not knowing when or if it will end and finding that pretty wearing.

I returned Michael’s trousers to Marks and Spencer but none in his size available in the shop or online or in Dunnes. The school authorities will kill us if we can’t unearth a pair. Finally got trousers in a specialist uniform shop. They should be made from raw silk at the cost of them. They are not.

The school has made changes to the uniform this year and herself has complained about this quite a bit. She tried it on for us to inspect. Her complaints are warranted. It’s awful. Only one more year, I suppose.

Michael chose the remake of “Total Recall” for cinema night. Poor Michael, it was our first total dud. Quite dreadful.

Saturday, August 29, 2020

I spent most of the afternoon taming the garden as a kind of displacement activity. I did not complete the work task I had set myself. Alas. The garden looks amazing though.

Mr. Waffle and I went out to dinner to a friend’s house. Very thrilling and most enjoyable.

Sunday, August 30, 2020

We had the cousins over. We were able to sit in my newly hacked back garden. Time well spent.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 3 – Leinster

29 August, 2020
Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Monday, August 17, 2020

We had intended to stop for lunch at an appealing cafe but sadly it was closed down indefinitely. We limped around the back roads hunting for an alternative. We passed by Clonmacnoise , like literally passed the front gate of Ireland’s most famous monastic settlement which it transpired none of my children had ever heard of but, happily for them, it was closed. Offaly was in local lockdown and this included the local heritage sites.

We pushed on past plague country and into Westmeath which was open. I thought Moate might be nice. I don’t want to be unfair to Moate and nowhere is at its best in driving rain but I thought it was a grim enough spot. Almost all the cafes were closed Mondays but we eventually got lunch in a vile little deli and sat outside on the side of the road in the rain eating it. Unlovely.

We were home a little over an hour later. There was endless souvenir unpacking – my tea towel needs are met for a life time. You may admire a sample staged for your delectation along with the made in China ewer.

The cat was quite peeved with us but relented eventually. The marmalade we had bought as part of a present package for the neighbours to thank them for minding the cat leaked with predictably disastrous results.

I had another couple of days off and I decided to go down to Cork and visit my father the following day.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 2 – Connaught

28 August, 2020
Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Sunday, August 9, 2020 – continued

We drove over the Donegal county bounds into Sligo and I discovered that we would be going really close to W.B. Yeats’s grave, so we stopped for a look despite some consumer resistance. It’s a very beautiful graveyard with a lovely view over Benbulbin. The children were, nonetheless, broadly underwhelmed. “Those dying generations at their song” eh?

Our airbnb host in Mayo messaged to ask whether we needed a cot. Herself suggested that I reply “No, as I am the shortest member of the family and I am 51.” Oh very funny.

Eventually after our very long drive, we arrived in our accommodation about 6. I was attracted to the place when I saw it because the view was so beautiful but Mr. Waffle was a bit reluctant as it was spartan inside. We compromised by deciding to stay for a few days only before going further west.

The view was entirely as advertised.

It was in the Gaeltacht (Irish speaking part of Ireland) and our hosts spoke to us in Irish which was rather nice. I could tell that the mother was a teacher as when I said that we were staying after in Galway and forgot the sÃ©imhiÃº (alas) she said patiently, “I n…”. The house itself was very old fashioned. It had belonged to the grandparents of the current owners – a brother and sister in college – and they decided to let it out on airbnb. Their mother, in Irish mother fashion was the person most on top of the logistics though. Herself and the daughter let us in with masks on. She soon took over from the daughter in explaining the house’s quirks. It was a bit old fashioned but it was clean and fine really. As I unpacked in the bedroom, the smell and the atmosphere reminded me of older country relatives’ houses that I had visited growing up and I thought all that’s missing really is the sacred heart on the wall and I turned around and there he was looking benignly down on the bed.

My saintly first born agreed to make dinner as her father and I were exhausted. After dinner we sat out for a bit looking up at the stars and catching glimpses of the bats swooping about.

Monday, August 10, 2020

After our epic trek from Derry the previous day, we didn’t feel up to much. I spent a good while looking at the view. The weather was beautiful. I settled myself down and finished off Queen Mary. After 622 pages it was like saying farewell to an old friend.

We carried out a raid on the Centra in Clonbur which left a bit to be desired but better than nothing. Herself came with me as she, yet again, had agreed to cook dinner. She made burritos, possibly the most successful dinner of the holiday.

In the afternoon I persuaded Mr. Waffle and Daniel to come swimming with me in Loch na Fooey.

It was cold but I’ve had colder. I pointed out to Dan that we were actually swimming in “Les lacs du Connemara” but he remained unmoved. “Only one lac,” says he.

Afterwards we drove in to Leenane a small town on Killary Fjord. Ireland’s only fjord. The thrills keep coming.

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

I thought after my investigations the previous day, that Leenane might provide a satisfactory breakfast so Mr. Waffle, herself and myself went to explore. Not entirely satisfactory but not bad either.

The roads were full of sheep which treated cars with complete indifference. My city child was keen to get up close with a mountain sheep but as soon as she hopped out of the car, they scattered to the four winds in alarm.

In the afternoon I persuaded everyone out to Loch na Fooey for a swim. Everyone swam except Michael who sat on the beach reading his book with his coat on so not a 100% success rate but look, you can’t have everything. He was resigned to his fate in going to the lake and being forced to look at scenery but wild horses weren’t going to drag him into the boggy lake water.

Leaving the children back to the house, Mr. Waffle and I went into Cong to inspect the former abbey and sample the delights of the town. Fine, you know, but seen one ruined abbey, you’ve seen them all; this was certainly the strong view of the children.

The film “The Quiet Man” was filmed there in the 50s and the town is still very proud of this. There was, inter alia, a plaque on a bar unveiled by Des McHale sometime UCC prof of maths; author of the Kerryman joke books; father of the Guard in “The Young Offenders”; and, it transpires, author of a book on “The Quiet Man”. His daughter is a friend of my sister’s and she confirmed that he is originally from Mayo which possibly explains his interest.

We ran into a former colleague of mine. She was with her husband and children. She explained that only two of the three were hers. We chatted about Corona virus. Wouldn’t you hate to be from Kildare, Laois or Offaly gone back into lockdown? One of the children piped up, “Hey, I’m from Kildare!” “Shh,” we said as one and my mortified former colleague hastened to assure me that the child had left Kildare before lock down was announced.

We came home and watched the sun go down from the front door.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

It was probably the hottest day of the year. Mr. Waffle expressed a desire to walk up the mountain and see the deserted village. I insisted that we all go. Daniel, however, had a sore foot so was invalided out and I decided to stay with him. The other three had a wonderful walk which two of them very much enjoyed and one tolerated. Apparently there were spectacular views. Still Daniel and I sat in the garden in the shade of the hedge, reading our books and looking out over the lake and, I have to say, that wasn’t bad either.

We tried to go and see a sheepdog demonstration (herself became fascinated by sheep) but the farmer said that unfortunately, he had to take his wife to hospital; I contacted our accommodation in Clifden where we were going that evening and the owner said someone would meet me but she had to take her newborn to hospital; finally I contacted our hosts about checking out of our accommodation in Mayo and the owner was in hospital getting eye surgery. I felt like I was some kind of disaster maelstrom. Probably not though. Anyway, the owner’s Mammy came across the field to check us out and said he was fine really – it was only laser eye surgery – and not to worry about him.

On this cheering note, we took ourselves to Clifden about an hour away, on the coast where we would be staying until the following Monday.

When we were booking accommodation for this holiday, it was a bit thin on the ground and we ended up renting this apartment in Clifden that was much too big for us. It had, 6 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, two reception rooms, a kitchen and a dining room. Though no dishwasher regrettably. The children each had a television and they were thrilled. I had hoped that perhaps my sister might be able to join us for the weekend and use up some of the space but, alas, it was not to be.

Leaving the children to bond with the excitement that was the enormous flat, Mr. Waffle and I walked into town. Clifden reminded me a bit of Dingle. It was clearly a tourist town heaving with people from Dublin (including ourselves, I suppose) and prices were quite Dublin like as well. It was not what I would call undiscovered.

We went out for dinner and when we came home it was to discover that the extended family group from downstairs were having a party. Good voices, in fairness, but unappealing at 3 in the morning.

Thursday, August 13, 2020

Herself spent the morning watching the Covid committee on Oireachtas TV. Unclear what to say to this; my child has unusual tastes. Mr. Waffle and myself went into town and visited the library: not bad at all. Opened at a time when there were many French tourists in the area, I assume.

We picked up some shopping in the excellent supermarket (a bit notiony but dammit, I like notiony) and had a wander around town and all in all did very little all day. I saw a copy of a biography of Queen Adelaide in a second-hand book shop and picked it up as my new area of specialised interest appears to be lesser-known British queens consort (or queen consorts? Inquiring minds want to know, advice in the comments please).

Friday, August 14, 2020

Distressed by the indolent nature of the previous day, I forced them all out of the house and we went to Roundstone, stopping off on the way to have a look at the site where Alcock and Brown crash landed on the bog after the first non-stop crossing of the Atlantic by air. I am forced to concede that it is, well, a bit of bog. I thought Roundstone would be a bit bigger and different from how it actually was. I was worried when we got there that we would have nowhere to lunch at all but happily we were able to get sandwiches from a shop and eat them by the sea so not too bad.

We went to the beach afterwards. Gurteen beach and Dog’s Bay just outside Roundstone are the most spectacular beaches on a tombola (back to back on a peninsula). Only Daniel and I swam but it was probably my nicest swim of the summer. The water wasn’t too cold, the sun shone, the beach was breathtakingly beautiful and we had it pretty much to ourselves.

I don’t have a good photo so you’ll just have to take my word for it; on the other hand, I do have this photo of me doing a handstand in the sea so it’s not all bad.

We then had a successful, though early, dinner in Guy’s bar in Clifden (latest booking I could get was 5.30) getting us home in plenty of time for some of the party to watch Barcelona v Bayern Munich. I was fascinated and delighted by this extraordinary story of two local girls rescued from their paddle boards after 15 hours at sea.

We went to bed relatively early and I was not delighted to be woken by the carousers downstairs at 4 in the morning. We moved to a bedroom on the opposite side of the corridor and that was fine until at 8 someone downstairs started playing the guitar. Why, I mean, why? So we moved back to our original room, the 4 am crowd, understandably, showing no sign of life at 8 in the morning.

Saturday, August 15, 2020

In my ongoing attempt not to miss anything, I took those who were willing – Mr. Waffle, Daniel and myself – to Mannin beach and very nice it was too though you would want to keep your wits about you in the effort to find it. That may explain why there was almost nobody there except ourselves. That and the light drizzle.

Still, notwithstanding the rain, the water was shallow and warm and we went for a nice cup of tea and a bun in a cafe afterwards and the sun came out. The cafe was lovely and…vegan. The west of Ireland is full of vegan/vegetarian outlets. I am surprised. Herself confessed to me recently that she has gone vegan outside the home but is still only vegetarian inside because she knows if she went vegan it would tip me over the edge. She is correct. I was sorry she missed the vegan cafe though.

Proving how thoroughly middle-aged I now am, I insisted on going on a nice drive. The Sky Road loop gets a mention in the tourist books and it is well worth the trip in my view – the whole drive was only about half an hour and the views are spectacular.

Herself made dinner again. Interested parties discovered that between eating out and herself and Mr. Waffle cooking dinner, I hadn’t made dinner since leaving Dublin. Not even sorry. We played cards after dinner but it was so warm that we went outside to the courtyard. Sadly, we were then eaten alive by midges. These are not typical Irish holiday problems.

All our neighbours having left, I enjoyed my best night’s sleep since arriving in Clifden.

Sunday, August 16, 2020

I was awoken at 11 by a grass strimmer which sounded like a loud and angry mosquito but this was an acceptable improvement on being awoken at 4 in the morning. We mooched around and after lunch I announced that we would go to Kylemore Abbey. This was greeted with no great enthusiasm but we gathered ourselves up slowly. So slowly that I realised that there was a risk we would not get there before last entries at 4. On the drive there we were stuck behind a slow campervan (inappropriately named, the Rapido) and we pulled into the car park at 3.56. Mr. Waffle and the children ran to get tickets. We made it. I have to say, I wasn’t particularly keen to go in the first instance but having committed to it, I would have been bitter to have missed it.

The house is a bit of a Victorian monstrosity but the site makes it look amazing. It used to be a girls’ boarding school for years but now it’s open to the public and quite nicely done. The President and his wife turned up at the same time as us and, to be fair, aside from their own personal guide showing them around, they had no special attention and didn’t cause any disruption to other tourists – all of whom were Irish and, as such, obeyed our code that no one should ever, under any circumstances, indicate that they have recognised a well-known figure – so he was left in peace also.

We had a cup of tea in Letterfrack afterwards. “Does that name mean anything to you?” I asked the children. It did not. To me, it was nortorious, as it contained an industrial school – a sort of juvenile detention centre – which even by the standards of the time was considered harsh. I was surprised to see that it had closed as long ago as 1974.

After we had dropped the others home, herself agreed to come to the Sky Road at sunset with me if I took her to see a Marian shrine on the road which she had found intriguing. We were both quite pleased with our deal.

We then had a quiet evening in, trying to finish off all the food we had bought. Mr. Waffle found a book on Marconi (also active here where a big station was built as the first landing point for messages from America) written by another UCC academic – Mick Sexton, former elec eng prof. They were following me around along with Marconi.

Monday, August 17, 2020

We left Clifden and headed east towards Leinster. “Stay with us” as they say on my favourite podcast.