Twins

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 1 – Ulster

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

Friday, 31 July, 2020

We drove up North on Friday afternoon. As we sped across the border, herself announced that she had forgotten to pack socks. This triggered an unwelcome thought: I too had forgotten to pack socks. Unfortunate.

We stopped in Hillsborough for a cup of tea. The excitement of using foreign currency; red postboxes; funny number plates. Almost like being abroad though not quite.

We stayed in an airbnb outside Ballycastle. It was a family home and the family were there when we got there having just finished an extensive and, by the look of them, exhausting clean up. The family were lovely and gave us loads of great tips about places to eat and visit. They left us with a much used map of the area. Mr. Waffle had, naturally, already bought one of those but we forbore from saying so. They warned us off visiting Tor head, a local beauty spot on the grounds that Nicole Kidman and Willem Dafoe had closed it off to visitors (some class of film, I understand rather than a joint holiday).

The house itself was a triumph – I was delighted with myself. It was huge with a bathroom for everyone in the family and one spare. It had every conceivable kind of streaming service. I would highly recommend if you find yourself planning a trip up North.

We went into town to get fish and chips for dinner but, sadly, the place recommended by our hosts had just closed so we went along the sea front to Marconi’s which had the advantage of being open. They did look at us in disbelief as we asked for a table for 5: what now? Yes, it’s 9 in the evening and we would like to eat. Happily they managed to find us a table. It was grand and busy. Lots of Northern Irish accents – clearly they were holidaying at home as well. Food was fine and we were getting used to eating out safety precautions. I paid by card as I always do these days but wanted to leave a cash tip as the machine didn’t allow for tips (why?). I went up to the bar with a â‚¬50 note and looked for change but, sadly, as the staff pointed out, it was the wrong currency. Alas for the tip.

Marconi set up a station in Ballycastle and used it to transmit messages to a nearby island (Rathlin) hence the restaurant name. Did you know Marconi’s mother was Irish as was his first wife? Yes, yes, I’m a mine of fascinating information.

We went for a short stroll after dinner. Ballycastle is a really pretty little place – a traditional seaside town right on the beach.

It is also, wikipedia tells me, nearly 80% catholic and, if GAA club membership is a sign of that in the North (and I understand it is) then that may be why there were not one but two GAA clubs in town and loads of lads in GAA shorts and jerseys wandering around the sea front with their hurls over their shoulders.

Saturday, 1 August 2020

Herself was up with the lark and went on a looped walk nearby which our hosts had shown us. She got a bit lost but made it back eventually. I would have worried but I was in bed asleep so all well from my perspective at least. She was a little peeved that no one searched for her (her father is not a worrier so he had just continued calmly eating his breakfast and reading the paper).

Herself and myself went to the nearest Tesco in Ballymoney to get emergency sock supplies. A friend from Bangor once told me that when she went to the Antrim coast on holidays as a child they drove up through Ballymena and Ballymoney and her parents used to say, “If you weren’t so Ballymena with your Ballymoney, you could buy a Ballycastle.” It works better with a Northern accent and is also a handy guide to navigation.

On our way, we stopped off at the Dark Hedges which are about a mile from the house. The internet abounds in atmospheric pictures of the trees on this road. This is not one of them. The place is full of tourists (including ourselves) in day glo lycra (not us, in fairness) and it takes from the mysterious atmosphere.

Northern Ireland is rich in flags and Ballymoney had plenty of Union Jacks reflecting the more general Antrim demographic. We wore our masks in the supermarket as this is a thing in the South but not so much in the North and almost no one was wearing a mask except a cross older gentlemen who hissed at me, “Very disappointing to see the staff not wearing masks, isn’t it?” I felt it was a bit rough to blame the poor old Tesco workers for the general environment so muttered something neutral into my mask. Handy for muttering, the old mask.

After lunch we went for a walk along Ballycastle beach which is lovely.

The town itself is a bit quieter away from the seafront but still reasonably busy and not as small as I was expecting. Sadly, though, the Ballycastle museum was closed for the duration of our stay.

We wanted to go for a cup of tea in the flash hotel outside the town recommended by our hosts and it did look enticingly lovely with lots of chintz when we ran in from the driving rain outside but, sadly, they could only offer us a seat in the courtyard where a number of depressed looking tourists were gathered under a canopy. We decided against.

When we got home, we had planned to do the loop walk but it was still lashing, so we settled down to watch “Hamilton” which was available on our hosts’ extensive TV package and which I was curious to see. We know all the songs from hearing herself sing them around the house. Nevertheless, a stage production on the TV just isn’t great, I feel. It’s also quite long, isn’t it? We saved the second half for the following evening. Something to look forward to.

Sunday August 2, 2020

Mr. Waffle and I went to mass. I didn’t bring the children in case we couldn’t get in but we could. I felt a bit bad spreading illness to the elderly particularly since the priest kept telling us all how we didn’t have to come.

After mass we decided to seek out a nice cafe for breakfast. We bought newspapers from across the spectrum to enjoy with our breakfast. We asked a young woman in the supermarket for advice on breakfast venues. “Ardoyle’s,” she recommended. Extensive internet searches did not unearth Ardoyle’s. We did, however, eventually get to “Our Dolly’s”. Northern accents, though delightful, present their own unique challenges to Southerners.

Our Dolly’s provided a hearty breakfast but was not what I would describe as a healthy option.

In the afternoon we went to Murlough Bay (ancestral home of Roger Casement and where he wanted to be buried, apparently). The drive there was beautiful (if a little unnerving at times) and the beach at the end of the drive was delightful. Dan and I went for a swim. It was definitely my coldest swim of the year but I enjoyed it in retrospect.

That evening I went for a walk to Pan’s rock on the beach at Ballycastle (more lovely views) and had a look at the ruins of a friary across the road. I went on my own as I felt that familial tolerance for both these activities would be low. The friary boasted the grave of the local “black nun” a 17th century “recluse and prophetess”. I have not come across black nuns before so that was novel. They also claimed that the ruins possibly contained the grave of local hero “Sorley boy” or Somhairle BuÃ in Irish. He was quite the character and in any exploration of this part of the world, he crops up very regularly.

I insisted on watching “Hamilton” to the end. It was hard going.

Monday, 3 August 2020

Myself and herself went to test out a cafe at Whitepark Bay recommended by our hosts. It was an excellent recommendation. We enjoyed it very much. We drove home by the coast and the scenery was spectacular. We stopped off at Ballintoy which is a pretty little harbour. I tried to take a mother/daughter selfie but the results were not entirely satisfactory due to my ineptitude. Some of the party were quite amused by this.

We then did a pretty thorough exploration of the shops of Ballycastle and did our bit to boost the local economy.

In the afternoon we went to Glenariff for a walk (it’s one of the nine glens of Antrim – all of which I can now name, you will, doubtless, be delighted to know). There was some tetchiness on the way there due to a difficulty with directions. As we u-turned for a second time, herself intoned dolefully from the back seat, “Ah yes, Cushendall where my parents got divorced.” You will be pleased to hear that after the strain of getting there, it was a lovely walk. Filled with wild raspberries. Does this strike you as odd?

We went for a reviving cup of tea afterwards. A great value excursion yet again as the UK Government has a scheme to encourage eating out in Covid times – you get 50% off your bill up to a maximum of Â£10 per person on Mondays- Wednesdays. What’s not to love? We missed it when we came South, I can tell you. I had a German biscuit a delicacy I had come across for the first time earlier in the day. Appealing. It was nice to see it wrapped in clingfilm as well as this was the first establishment that we’d been in that hadn’t got a 5 out of 5 hygiene rating.

We bought some Northern Irish crisps for research purposes. I was particularly intrigued by the gammon and pineapple flavour. I regret to have to report back that despite its tasteful, upmarket crisp packaging, it was not a success.

When we got home we had another look at the options on our hosts’ streaming service (including Amazon Prime, lads – our principles forbid us from buying from Amazon at home but if someone else has already paid for it, it’s fair game).

Tuesday, August 4, 2020

We were booked to get the ferry out to Rathlin island but we changed our booking in view of the dreadful weather forecast. We have never made a better decision. It bucketed down. Leaving Michael to enjoy staying in bed, Mr. Waffle, herself, Daniel and I went back to the cafe in Whitepark bay. I was enthused. Daniel said, “Honestly, sometimes you are like a middle-aged child.” Harsh but not unfair.

We were perhaps a bit peckish as we waited for breakfast and herself did not add to the cheeriness of the wait by commenting during a gap in our desultory conversation, “If you could all be just 10% more interesting…” Happily breakfast arrived before any of the party was murdered.

I had to check in with work which I did not love but it was ok. I may have said this before but it’s really struck me – we’re not working from home we are living at work – and I do not like it.

To cheer myself up, I went in to Ballycastle and bought an enamel ewer. My mother would be appalled if she knew what I paid for it and there is almost certainly one lying around in the attic of my parents’ house in Cork although, probably not one that was made in China, in fairness.

After lunch the rain showed no sign of letting up so I tried to drum up enthusiasm for a trip to the Ulster Museum in Belfast. Herself came. We had a nice time in the museum looking at art and arrived just in time to be let in as ticketless walk-ins. Gratifying.

I enjoyed the crochet sphinx.

Also a painting of Fair Head from Ballycastle beach which, for your delectation, I have artily juxtaposed with a snap I took myself of the same view.

There are also paintings by Lavery (of course) and John Luke of whom I was not particularly conscious before but whose work I really like.

Then we hit the shops and went for a cup of tea before heading back north to Ballycastle. All in all a very successful little outing. One of the things that really appeals about Northern Ireland is how close everything is.

Meanwhile in Coronavirus news, it was announced that re-opening of pubs in the South was to be further delayed. Not a great sign.

Speaking of signs, omens, portents, we all moderately enjoyed watching the dramatisation of “Good Omens” on Amazon Prime. Cast of thousands.

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

We went on our deferred trip to Rathlin island. I think we all liked it more than we expected to. The ferry ride over was superb. You go across the Sea of Moyle and I quoted the “Song of Fionnuala” at the children – “Silent O Moyle be the roar of thy water” etc. – which, as you can imagine, they enjoyed very much.

The rain held off and we went for a walk on the island. It felt like we pretty much had it to ourselves. It is lovely and with loads of points of interest to walk to and practically no cars.

Herself had read a short history of the island with an emphasis on the fate of the Irish language and regaled us with various anecdotes. We found the author’s grave in the C of I graveyard – I thought that meant he was Protestant but it turned out that they take all denominations there which surprised me a bit. There’s a catholic church on the island as well. The graveyard was full of interest. My favourite grave – from a very competitive field – was the one erected by Prince Albrecht of Waldeck.

I spent much of my time in Ballycastle working my way through James Pope-Hennessy’s biography of Queen Mary (600 odd pages, like the curate’s egg) and, in consequence, had a greater grasp of minor German royal houses than I am ever likely to again so I was able to place Prince Albrecht. Why was he on Rathlin? Herself knew from her history of Rathlin book that the Gages were the big family locally (mixed reviews) and following some research it transpired that Dorothea Gage had married a German princeling. Probably some class of relation to Queen Mary. Small world, eh?

I got a couple of messages from work but, overall, it was a relatively peaceful day on that front.

We had another stroll on Ballycastle beach that evening after our return from Rathlin and herself made dinner. A thrill. Though not as big a thrill as getting a message from Expedia that our flights to America were to be refunded followed by actual refunding. And, even though I diligently saved up to pay for them, it felt very much like free money rather than the product of careful saving. I was extremely pleased. It was shortly after this that I noticed the palms of my hands peeling from continual use of hand sanitiser as I nipped in and out of the souvenir shops in Ballycastle sharing my good fortune with them by purchasing pictures and assorted tea towels and the like. Middle aged thrills. Good job Expedia, in fairness.

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Due to some logistical issues, we ended up going back to Our Dolly’s for breakfast. I regret to say that it continued unsatisfactory.

We went up the town to the post office to deal with my stamp difficulties. The UK has a thing called 1st and 2nd class stamps which are unknown elsewhere and I got confused (insert your own joke about the British class system here). The woman in the post office looked at me pityingly but addressed my difficulties. Like all people in Northern Ireland, in my experience, she was shocked by wanton waste of money and when I said give me all international stamps and even if I send some within the UK, they’ll get there anyway, she looked at me in horror. But I was Expedia flight refund rich and went for it anyhow.

Mr. Waffle, herself and myself went to the Giant’s Causeway. The boys refused to come on the grounds that they had seen it before. I felt it might be worth seeing again but they ranged themselves firmly with Dr. Johnson in this matter.

Graffiti from the 1790s for your delectation.

Dan and I went for a swim on Ballycastle beach later. Bit chilly but pleasant and nothing is ever likely to be as cold as Murlough beach.

As it was our last night in Ballycastle, we went out for dinner to O’Connor’s bar which was a success. They took our temperature on the way in which was the first time we had had that since Kinsale in July. I suppose it’s a good way to weed out the actually ill.

We picked up some of a local delicacy which looks like Crunchie but in texture is more like a stick of rock. Information I wish I had had before I bit into it for the first time. Quite nice though.

Friday, August 7, 2020

We took off for Derry. We stopped off at Dunluce castle. It is very impressive. Some guidebook tells us that a wing fell into the sea at one stage taking a number of servants with it; so very close to the sea. It was originally built by someone else but, inevitably, Sorley Boy, took it off them. Apparently it was the inspiration for Cair Paravel in the CS Lewis (from Belfast, of course) Narnia books and I can totally see that.

Even the children agreed it was quite spectacular. Then we went back into Bushmills for a browse before lunch. It’s a pretty little town with a famous distillery, many British flags and a nice statue celebrating Ulster Scots. The post office boasts an extensive collection of Visit Ulster posters but, sadly, not the one I wanted. The post mistress seemed genuinely devastated for me but I bore up alright.

In the Diamond which is what they call the central town square in Northern Ireland (I wonder at what point in Irish geography does the Diamond become the Square?) there was King Billy supporting the NHS. Northern Ireland is an odd place in some ways.

After lunch we drove on to Derry in driving rain so my proposal that we should have a brief stop off at Mussenden Temple was vigorously vetoed. By the time we arrived in Derry, the rain had stopped. Our hotel was in the centre of town which meant that there was no parking at the hotel but on balance, it was well worth it for the location. Some tension in the car as in the midst of navigation, I had to field a work call. When we got to the hotel (which I would really recommend by the way – Shipquay hotel), the others collapsed and I dealt with my work issue. After an hour or so, Mr. Waffle and I went for a stroll around the walls leaving the children to bond with the hotel.

Obviously, I knew Derry was a walled city but I had no idea it would be so impressive and so compact. It’s a planned city and it’s very easy to navigate around. I was charmed as we walked around the walls.

And there was an Irish flag just outside the walls at head height from our position on the ramparts. Closer inspection revealed that it was on a very high pile of pallets and likely to be set alight later in the evening. So there was that.

That evening we went out to dinner in a lovely pizza restaurant across the road from the hotel. All of our ordering was done online by phone and then the staff brought food – very speedy – and we paid by phone too. Sadly, a very loud party of six was seated immediately behind us. We seem to attract party groups. The children spent some time explaining Reddit to me. “There’s a r/ for everything,” explained Michael. “Even for Mary of Teck?” I asked dubiously. “Everything,” he assured me fervently, I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel. Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that there is not, in fact, and r/ for Mary of Teck.

Meanwhile on the Coronavirus front, three counties were shut down in the Midlands – Laois, Kildare and Offaly. Not great news, then. In slightly related news, herself said that the UK was going crazy over A level results – “Just another incident in the Class of 2020 carnival of horrors,” she observed sagely.

Saturday, August 8, 2020

Breakfast in the hotel was excellent and the staff were absolutely lovely. In fact, everyone we met in Derry was particularly friendly.

We dragged the children out for a walk around the walls. Somewhat to our surprise, there was an extremely heavy police presence. About a dozen policemen with enormous guns. I asked one of them what was going on. To my surprise, he had a Cork accent, there’s cross-border policing for you. He explained that it was the day of an important Orange March but due to Corona virus it had gone ahead in a much reduced form. As we walked on a couple of bowler hatted gentleman with sashes walked briskly past and smiled at us remarking what a lovely day it was – as indeed it was. I’m glad all the same that we missed the usual parade. I am indebted to a local Northern paper for the following background information:

The Apprentice Boys have cancelled their annual August Relief of Derry parade because of the Covid-19 crisis. Held on the Saturday closest to August 12, the Apprentice Boys march commemorates the end of the 1689 Siege of Derry. The event, which is the single biggest parade in Northern Ireland annually, attracts thousands of Apprentice Boys, bands and followers every year. …Confirming the move yesterday, the organisation said the decision to cancel, planned for August 8, was taken with disappointment.
Irish News

Honestly, you would have to feel for the NI tourist board. A friend of mine from the North told me this joke. What are the months in Northern Ireland? January, February, March, March, March…

The children pronounced themselves reasonably impressed by the almost entirely intact 17th century city walls. They particularly liked the fact that they could trot back to the hotel very easily from there.

The children went back to the hotel while Mr. Waffle and I had a look around the Guild Hall. Mildly interesting and quite an appealing civic building which has recovered from fire and bombing. There was a book of condolences for John Hume in the main room upstairs. Downstairs was a plantation of Ulster exhibition which was probably a bit more interactive when initially opened.

Also, who has a stained glass window dedicated to her? Queen Mary, that’s who.

We then had lunch and a little break – the risk of sunstroke was very real. It was boiling. Mr. Waffle took Daniel to the O’Neill’s superstore where he got a Cork GAA top (sadly only his second-favourite county team) and herself scampered off to explore the joy of Superdrug a large pharmacy/make-up retailer unknown in the South.

At 3.10 we turned up at the local history museum but last entry was at 3. Who has last entry at 3 on a Saturday? Who? Corona virus hours, I suppose. We took ourselves outside the town to dutifully look at the murals in the Bogside and the Free Derry wall (like King Billy, a supporter of the NHS).

We nearly expired from the heat. Who would have thought it? In Derry, in August.

For dinner we went to this restaurant outdoors across the road from the hotel. There was a sort of outdoor shopping area amid Georgian stables and it was actually very nice. It boasted an impressive mural (Northern Ireland, home of the mural) – apparently Derry used to have an absolutely massive garment industry.

We had our dinner in a place called Soda and Starch and it was possibly the nicest meal we had over the whole holiday. We were tired, hot, hungry and foot sore when we arrived and we left entirely restored. And we only had to stroll across the road to the hotel. A big success. I only have a before picture.

I made everyone walk across the bridge over the Foyle after dinner.

Everyone else was a bit tired after this but I still fancied a further walk around the city walls. Mr. Waffle came too. There were a load of young teenagers drinking on the walls and I was suitably outraged and said in middle-aged matronly way, “Where are the PSNI now then?” When we got a bit further, we saw that the gates in the wall were locked. We turned back and went the other way and found that the police were all patrolling with their guns around the loyalist part of town. I’d forgotten about the Orange March but it was clearly still a big day locally and there was maybe a bit of tension.

We decided it might be time to head back towards our hotel. It wasn’t exactly intimidating but it felt like it might get a bit exciting later. The armoured car trundling down towards the river reinforced that impression.

Sunday August 9, 2020

After a sustaining breakfast in the hotel, we took ourselves to the museum. Lots of history. Someone said of the Balkans that they make more history than they can consume locally. The same is true of Derry. There was a lot about the siege of Derry and Lundy’s betrayal (not a popular figure locally) but also about the development of the city over the years and there was an exhibition on partition which we all found pretty interesting.

Then we headed back to the house and picked up our bags which had mysteriously multiplied. I think we can agree, though, that the Tesco bag for life is a classy addition to any luggage collection.

We drove in to Donegal and ended up stopping for lunch at a luxury hotel which was not at all our intention but pubs and standard lunch spots were few and mostly closed so there you are. It was grand.

Then we drove out of Donegal and out of Ulster and in to Connaught. Stay tuned for the next exciting update.

Back on the Chain Gang

26 July, 2020
Posted in: Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Saturday, July 18, 2020

We spent a quiet day at home doing laundry and gardening and recovering from the excitements in Cork . It’s not all glamour, you know.

Due to an ordering glitch, we got 18 eggs in the shopping. Our neighbours called round and gave us a further 15 from their hens. It’s an eggstravaganza, eggsessive even.

Sunday, July 19, 2020

I took myself off to mass in Irish at 10 on the basis that it surely wouldn’t be full. I got in alright but there was no mass. I sat there entirely alone in a big church in the city listening to the traffic outside and the seagulls squawking. It felt like a lot of space.

I took myself off to my first physical bookclub since March. I took one of the electric bikes you can hire which was grand but they are not set up for carrying eggs (I brought her 6 very fresh free range eggs, what’s your point?). I handed over a bag with an egg smeared bottle of prosecco and up to four intact eggs. My hostess seemed pleased but she is tactful. She had put in place all kinds of precautions and it was really lovely to see people in person at a 2 metre distance etc. I hope we’ll be able to do it again and it won’t be a short-lived development in between two surges.

After that, Mr. Waffle and the children picked me up in the car and we went out to visit the cousins bringing with us as a gift 6 very fresh free range eggs. They are moving into the grandparents’ house – which would otherwise be empty as my mother-in-law has moved into a nursing home – and that’s where we visited. We’ve all spent a lot of time there over the years with my parents-in-law and it was strange to be there without them and I think all the adults felt a bit sad – though grateful that they have given us and the children so many happy memories. The boys spent the visit playing with their cousins on the trampoline and had a great time. My parents-in-law were very hospitable and loved having us all round to the house and I hope they would like to think that their family are still having a good time there.

Monday, July 20, 2020

Dan started his basketball camp and Michael spent the day in bed. Both of them were pretty happy with this. There was a weird smell under the stairs. Ominous, I think you will agree in view of the previously encountered fluttering noise.

Work was absolutely manic.

Tuesday, July 21, 2020 – Belgian National Day

I celebrated Belgian National Day by putting in a very trying day at work, returning home at 9 and slinking to bed exhausted without even a cup of tea, let alone dinner.

Herself went to Cork to tend to my father. My sister is going on a short holiday and my brother has to be in Dublin for work on Wednesday. I couldn’t go as I was needed in the office so she was our nominee to deal with his various whims (home help were coming three times a day to deal with helping him up and to bed and so on). My father was very dubious.

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Herself enjoyed complete success in her day tending to my father’s whims. He put her number into his phone and called her every time he wanted anything from a cup of tea to finding his missing glasses. She said that no one had ever called her so much in her life. The engineer came to look at subsidence in the house also and she shouted his findings to her grandfather (he is rather deaf).

The green list of countries to which you can go without quarantining for a fortnight was published. It does not include the US. Efforts to get a refund for the flights for 5 of us out to New York and home from LA continue. I fear the worst. How deeply annoying.

Daniel made dinner which was fantastic as I was stuck late at work again.

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Herself returned from Cork crowned with laurels. My father rang me to tell me how fantastic she was. What a girl.

We had takeaway for dinner. I don’t even care, there is only so much I can do.

In possibly more positive news, the smell has completely disappeared from under the stairs.

Friday, July 24, 2020

Needless to say, I did not get to take my half day but I finished about 6 which allowed me to get to a barbecue to celebrate the 40th birthday of a former colleague. Given the constraints of Corona virus, the gathering was necessarily select also, we were outside and it did rain a little but it was marvellous. I had such a good time.

I’m really feeling like we are getting back to some kind of normal.

Saturday, July 25, 2020

We had a street clean up. The neighbours are really putting their backs into it. The place is immaculate.

Herself announced that there is a weird noise behind the fireplace in her bedroom and the cat is fascinated by it. She provided video footage. Is our house just basically a vermin infested disaster zone? I’d prefer if you didn’t answer.

I took the boys to get new school uniforms. â‚¬188 for 8 polo shirts and two vile nylon zip up tops. Pricey. We cycled to the uniform shop and then Daniel had to cycle home again to pick up masks for all of us (he’s the fittest and the fastest cyclist). Masks are compulsory in shops now and I am dutifully wearing mine but I’m a bit confused. Remember earlier when we were told that the science on masks was not clear? And we were told there was no point in wearing them or they might even be bad if worn the wrong way. Has the science become clearer? What has changed?

Herself babysat for friends around the corner and I stayed up in case for some reason she needed someone to walk her home. She didn’t but I waited up. When she got in she said, “Sorry you had to wait up.” “I don’t mind,” I said, “you know, I’m a late night bird.” “Is that the Tesco finest version of the night owl?” said she. We’re hilarious.

Sunday, July 26, 2020 – Feast Day of Saint Anne

I finally got in to mass. I’d kind of forgotten how dull our parish priest can be but quite a pleasant and familiar dull all the same. It wasn’t that different from before although there are a lot of markers on the floor showing where to stand and three pews out of four are cordoned off. Also there’s no collection just a bucket at the exit or the opportunity to tap and pay â‚¬4 which seems modest, to be fair. Communion is at the end which I think used to be the case pre-Vatican II anyhow. The leaflet was not particularly encouraging people to attend and reminded everyone that we all still have a dispensation not to attend Sunday mass.

We climbed up the Sugar Loaf in the afternoon in the teeth of some strong opposition. I was the slowest by miles and when I got down, they were all sitting waiting for me in the car in a marked manner. However, I redeemed myself by paying for tea and a treat in Enniskerry which was rather nice.

We rounded off the day with a quiz with the London relatives which was competitive but, ultimately, the children beat the grown-ups.

Cork!

19 July, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Saturday, July 11, 2020

We finally got on the road to Cork. Let joy be unconfined. A friend of mine has a holiday house in Kinsale and as she and her family are based in the US and unable to travel this year, she suggested I should go down and I decided that that might make a nice change now that nationwide travel is again possible.

Daniel fell asleep in the car. He explained to us that he had been awake all night as his wrist was so sore. Ominous.

We stopped off in Cork on the way to Kinsale to get supplies and to visit my father. Cork was looking delightful, I must say.

My father was only alright but he perked up a bit when he got the chance to examine Daniel’s (carefully sanitised) wrist. “A bad sprain,” he pronounced, “or possibly a scaphoid fracture, he’s going to need an x-ray.” We took Daniel to the clinic and they took an x-ray and diagnosed a bad sprain. He got a support for his wrist and we were finally free to go on to Kinsale.

My friend’s house is in Sandycove, just outside the town and it has one of the best settings of any holiday house I have ever been in. The views are delightful.

Sunday, July 12, 2020

I was sorry that poor Daniel’s sore wrist meant that he wouldn’t be able to kayak or swim but he had a better night with his support and slept fine.

The day started off overcast but the weather cleared as the day went on. Herself developed an inexplicable interest in Greek and she and Mr. Waffle spent a happy hour sitting together going through the basics (mostly the alphabet as far as I could tell) while the boys played Magic (if you don’t know, you’re better off) in their bedroom. There was no real internet – coverage was poor and I didn’t want to use my friend’s wifi with a data cap. We were thrown back a bit on our own resources and I was surprised how ok that was for all of us.

My brother cycled to Kinsale to visit us. It’s 30kms from Cork city but as he explained, he had to get a pump from a friend in Waterfall so he came the long way and did 45kms. I am baffled. He called me to get directions to the house. “I’m coming into Sandycove now, where is it?” he asked. As I was talking to him, Mr. Waffle was saying, “I can hear him.” Fortuitously, he had called for directions from the bottom of the drive. We were all pleased to see him and he promised to come back later in the week to try out the kayaks.

Myself and the Princess went out for an experimental kayak. It was satisfactory. We swam as well. A bit on the chilly side. The set up for the kayaks was excellent with private access to the shore from across the road from the house and, better again, a nearby island to kayak out to.

Then we went into Kinsale for a stroll. It is a very attractive little town and although I’ve known it all my life (even had my wedding reception there), it’s still lovely to visit.

Because I had briefly lost my mind and, I suppose, because there was no internet, I agreed to play monopoly. I still hate monopoly. Only one person left in a huff. For reasons I cannot explain the version of monopoly my friend has in Kinsale features St Barth. I now know more about property values in this Caribbean paradise than I expected to after a week in Kinsale.

Monday, July 13, 2020

It was lashing rain. I was on to work first thing and as coverage in the house was pretty poor, I had to drive the car around the corner to talk to people. Maybe not the best start to the week.

On the plus side, Daniel said his wrist was much, much better. The hospital rang saying they wanted to do another x-ray to check something that was unclear from the first one. A mixed report then.

A friend of Mr. Waffle’s who has bought a house in Kinsale and currently getting it renovated came to visit. She’s from Cork but based in London and had been self-isolating at her mother’s house for a fortnight. She found it tough going, I think. There were loads of English accents in Kinsale and, although a lot of English people live in the area, I have to say, some of them definitely looked like holiday makers. Other non-Irish visitors seemed thin on the ground.

That afternoon, Daniel’s wrist was so much better that he wanted to go out on the kayak. I was a bit reluctant but himself and Michael went out and had a great time, so I think we can probably rule out those concerns about a broken bone.

My father’s uncle and aunt had a house in Sandycove and after dinner, Mr. Waffle and I went for a look. It was a lovely Georgian hunting lodge and I experienced definite regret that it had been sold on rather than going to their deserving nephew and niece (Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia didn’t have any children of their own and my father and aunt were the only children on that side of the family, there are lots of things from that house that ended up in my parents’ house and some even in mine. By all accounts Uncle Jack and Aunt Cecilia were absolutely lovely, they certainly had lovely things).

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Feeling extremely sorry for myself, I got up at 7.30 in the morning and did 90 minutes of hard labour on the laptop. My general sorriness for myself was tempered by observing Mr. Waffle who, also very busy, got up at 4.30 to finish something. Note to file, no more July holidays.

In ongoing success for Tuesday, I took the family to the Old Head of Kinsale where I have been many, many times. Not since the 90s though, it appears, as all access for non-golfers has been blocked since then. I knew about the travesty that was building a golf course on the Old Head but I thought some limited access for walkers had been retained. My mistake.

We went back into Kinsale and walked to St. Multose’s church. You may recall that I have become fascinated by the dramatist Lennox Robinson who it turns out was from Cork. I mean, who knew? His father was a curate in this church and his nephew put in a stained glass window so we went to have a look. Lennox Robinson’s sister married one of the Dormans who were a big family in Kinsale and I was pleased when Mr. Waffle told me that he noticed that there is still a scion of the Dormer family on one of the church committees. Ah continuity.

Then we walked out to Scilly and had lunch in the Bulman. A traditional pleasure which seemed largely unchanged and, for me, was only marred by fielding a brief work call. The restaurant seemed fine – only one menu per table and a sign at the door asking you not to come in, if coming from abroad and you hadn’t self-quarantined for 14 days, but otherwise pretty much as normal.

We did some brief shopping in Kinsale and then Daniel and I kayaked out to the island.

Mr. Waffle and I fielded some last work calls and then it was time for dinner.

After dinner, he and I and the Princess walked out the headland to get a good look at Aunt Cecilia and Uncle Jack’s house. I did feel a mild pang. My father has always been strongly against holiday houses on the, not unreasonable, grounds that then you have to go to the same place on holidays every year. But I quite like going back to the same place. My father said that when Jack was getting work done on the house, everything went wrong – the builder went bust etc.- and for the duration, he and Cecilia put up at the Imperial hotel on the South Mall. The glamour, lads. He was an engineer and he designed a turf powered central heating system for the house. Revolutionary for its time, I’m sure, but I would imagine it has been replaced by now.

View from the house out to sea.

Herself was a bit glum as she wanted to spend a couple of days staying in a friend’s house in Cork but we vetoed it on Coronavirus grounds. It’s a bit hard to know what the rules are and I felt a bit of a heel as she has been so good but, on balance, we decided best not.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Mr. Waffle had a big meeting at 10 and I said that I would take the children to Cork for the day so we were up showered and in the car for 9.55. Quite the achievement, I can tell you. At 10.30, he rang to say that (very positive) developments meant that he did not actually have to work all day after all. We were in Cork by then so I left him to rejoice alone. On my own count I rejoiced also as I was not expecting any more work calls for the remainder of the week.

Herself and myself went into town in Cork leaving the boys in my parents house enjoying the thrill of re-connecting with the internet. It’s a bit weird going clothes shopping when you can’t try anything on so I failed to buy anything other than 6 vests for my father and a new teapot (a particularly middle aged haul) but herself got a couple of things. She bought herself a pokÃ© bowl in the market (it’s far from pokÃ© bowls etc).

We went back to Kinsale after lunch and my brother drove down to join us at about 5.30. We went out in the kayaks with him, went swimming (absolutely freezing), had dinner together and played 20 questions, it was lovely.

About 10.30, he said that he had better go and wondered aloud whether a) he would have enough petrol to get to Cork, the low fuel light was on and b) whether the garage in Kinsale was open. As to b) the answer was no. He went off into the darkness and I very much feared I would get a call to rescue him but no, he just managed to limp to Cork airport where he was able to fill up. Honestly, once a feckless younger brother, always a feckless younger brother.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

This was our last full day in Kinsale. Herself went into Cork city to meet a friend and Mr. Waffle, the boys and I went to Garrettstown beach. It’s my father’s favourite beach near the city and the place we almost always went when we were children. We took the body boards as it usually has great waves. The waves were not as fantastic as normal but Daniel and I still had an excellent time. Mr. Waffle went in only briefly and Michael, after a brief paddle, declared it just too cold.

I went up to Cork and paid a last visit to my father before collecting herself from town. She had been to the cinema which, she said, was an odd and almost solitary experience. She also said that a lot of shops in town weren’t letting in people who hadn’t the Covid tracker app. The previous day it was announced that pub openings would be delayed and that masks were to be compulsory in shops so perhaps everyone was just a bit more vigilant.

As it was our last night, I’d booked us in to a restaurant in Kinsale where I had been previously for lunch but never for dinner. It was busy enough. We had our temperature taken on the way in and there were screens between tables. Sadly our screen did not protect us from the noise of the cheerful but slightly drunken Dubliners at the next table who were celebrating the birthday of one of their number. The service was slow, the food was mediocre and the noise was deafening. Overall somewhat disappointing. Honestly, I’m just not sure how well this whole thing is going to work when people are drinking and eating out. I saw our waitress snap a picture of the drunken Dubliners on one of their phones. It’s all a bit worrying.

We scurried home to have dessert looking out at our view.

Friday, July 17, 2020

We left early on Friday morning as Mr. Waffle had a meeting in Dublin that afternoon. Quite honestly, it was one of the best holidays I have had. It was weirdly great not to have wifi. The house was really well set up for a family with every bit of kit you might need. The water and the kayaks were 100 metres away. The view was amazing and we all really needed a break. It was great to see my family. Notwithstanding work demands, I think everyone enjoyed it. Maybe we will go on holidays in July again.

Also, when we got home, our long awaited masks were in the hall. The postman had managed to get them though the letterbox so good news all round.

Is it still only July?

18 July, 2020
Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Sunday, July 5, 2020

I took myself off to mass for the first time in many months. I was greeted by this sign. Punctual worshipers only, it appears.

Daniel had his first GAA match since March. They were flattened, alas, but he was still delighted with himself.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to the Bull Wall for a walk. A longer cycle than I anticipated. And it lashed rain on us. But I was sustained by a sense of inner smugness. Until I had to cycle home against the wind and into the rain. A low point was when I was cycling at maximum speed into the wind and Mr. Waffle hopped off and started walking beside me.

Monday, July 6, 2020

The beginning of a quite hideous week at work – now definitively full time back on site. On the plus side, I had lunch with a colleague in the park.

I was late home but as a treat, the council had laid on bollards at the end of the road. The excitement, I was absolutely delighted. Filtered permeability is the way of the future. I made my utterly uninterested children walk to the end of the road and inspect the temporary bollards (more like wands really). There was a bunch of men standing there looking bitterly at the bollards and as I re-screwed in one that had been taken out and thrown on an adjacent planter, I engaged them in conversation about the merits of filtered permeability. It would be fair to say that neither side was convinced by the arguments of the other but, in fairness, it was all reasonably good humoured (to clarify, I do not think they were the authors of the outrage that was the unscrewing of the bollard). Hilariously, they said it was no wonder that this kind of thing was happening as the CEO of Dublin city council was himself a cyclist. In my view, the cycling provision in Dublin wouldn’t exactly be a testament to that. In my mind’s eye, I see the roads division as stacked with engineers who live in the suburbs and want to turn the city centre into a motoring paradise as they don’t have to live there but that may be unfair.

Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Another trying day in the salt mines and it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to go on holidays on Friday morning and, worse, would have to travel back to Dublin on Monday for a meeting. I thought we might stay on a bit longer the following week to make up for it. I rang herself to see whether this created any difficulty for her social plans. I described my travel plans. “Fine by me,” she said, “but it sounds like the diary of a super-spreader.”

Speaking of super spreaders, I had lunch, in a cafe, with a friend. So gratifying. Herself went on the bus for the first time since March. Pretty empty she said.

She told me about her friend who said that he was contemplating reading the Bible as it’s such a best-seller.

Him: My parents have an old edition, about 20 years old in the house, do you think I could read that?

Her: Sure, why not?

Him: Well, I was thinking that it might be quite offensive from today’s viewpoint and maybe a more modern updated version would be more appropriate.

Her [long pause]: Um, it’s 2,000 years old. They don’t update it. It’s as offensive as it ever was. Knock yourself out.

It is an ongoing mystery to me how in a country where some 95% of primary schools are denominational, children and young people seem to have no idea whatsoever about religion. Even in general knowledge terms. Insert your own curmudgeonly joke here.

Arrived home from work late and absolutely sodden. Alas.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

I was at my desk from 9 to 7.45 with a short break to buy a sandwich which I consumed at my desk. I was not delighted but on the plus side, the prospect of having to return on Monday for a meeting receded. There was much rejoicing on this latter front.

And then when I got home, Daniel had made pizza for dinner. Pleasing.

Herself got her braces tightened. Miserable.

The neighbourhood whatsapp group went crazy over the bollards. Entertaining.

Thursday, July 9, 2020

Another delightful 12 hour work day. Note to file, never, ever, go on holidays in July again. It is not quiet, it is busy. Herself has developed a principle she’s tentatively calling the Polly principle (an homage to the Peter principle): “Responsibility devolves to the person available.” It’s definitely feeling true at the moment.

I got herself to order take away for dinner. When I got home I went out to join Mr. Waffle and our residents’ association chair to canvas people and encourage them to love the bollards. I was no use as they had seen everyone already by the time I caught up with them. Feeling on the doorsteps was broadly positive, I understand. All to play for, we have a four week trial to convince people.

When we thought we would be going to Cork on Friday, we moved film night to Thursday and it was too much mental effort to change back. We saw “Hot Fuzz” which wasn’t bad although, unbeknownst to Mr. Waffle, who chose it, the boys and I had seen it relatively recently.

Friday, July 10, 2020

When I finally left the office, late in the evening, the place was deserted and the bike access was locked. Who knew they would do that on a Friday? Not the person who normally takes a half day on Fridays. I was a bit reluctant to take public transport home as I had no face mask and Mr. Waffle was off with Dan at a GAA match and couldn’t give me a lift. I eventually managed to raise someone from security and got home about 9.30, tired but triumphant.

I got an email from the local Irish company (name not included to protect the guilty) from whom I ordered my face masks at great expense in mid–May that they would finally be delivered in the next 2 days, i.e. when no one would be in the house for the first time since March. However, I could not work up any significant levels of indignation as I was finally on holidays (even if, alas, my laptop was travelling with me).

Daniel arrived home from GAA with a sore wrist but we sent him to bed and hoped for the best.

Soon there will be a post on our week in Cork. There’s something to look forward to.

Still Diarying

4 July, 2020
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

Monday, June 29, 2020

Although the plague feels much abated, I am still noting things every day. I’m not sure why but we’ll keep going and see when I run out of steam.

I am back to work in the office pretty much full time for July at least. The traffic was light on the cycle in which surprised me. There was hardly anyone in the office but one of my colleagues offered the frank appraisal that I looked pretty miserable. I suppose I was a bit. It was all strange and disorienting and it’s a different feeling to be going in to your office than downstairs to your desk.

I forgot my swipe card and spent some time trapped at reception but was rescued by a kindly security guard.

The creches have gone back today and, I have to say, I noticed the productivity boost immediately as colleagues are not limping along trying to mind children and work at the same time.

Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Last day working from home for a while. It felt a bit strange. Mr. Waffle got his hair cut to celebrate the barbers reopening. It was time.

Poor Daniel was very glum suffering from the boredom and inactivity which has been a huge part of his summer 2020 experience.

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

I cycled into the office in lashing rain and continue to adapt myself to this brave new world.

Mr. Waffle took Daniel out to visit his cousins and pick up a spare keyboard belonging to his uncle (immensely sophisticated yoke, Dan is delighted with it). Then he went back to real physical GAA training that evening in the lashing rain (both he and Mr. Waffle have done the return to GAA training post-covid course, no more spitting apparently, a delightful thought). He came back from training jubilant. Apparently between the daily runs and reps he’s actually never been fitter.

Herself meanwhile partook of more intellectual pleasures and went to visit Marsh’s Library with a friend. She sent us a picture of Queen Elizabeth I’s Irish primer.

Michael remained at home all day rubbing his hands in delight at having the house to himself.

Thursday, July 2, 2020

The boys got their hair cut. My menfolk are now all shorn which is, frankly, a welcome development.

I’m getting used to being back at the office full time. It’s still pretty empty though. On the way home, there were loads of people outside the pubs drinking. I feel a bit nervous.

Herself went to the GP alone for the first time – she hurt her foot a couple of weeks ago and it was getting worse. Mr. Waffle was in an endless conference call and I was in my office so neither of us could go with her. She was quite pleased. They made an appointment for her to go for an x-ray.

I finally finished book 7 of the Harry Potter audiobooks. Go on, judge away. Listening to them all via Borrowbox (excellent library app which allows you to download audiobooks and e-books for borrowing purposes) has been my pandemic soundtrack. A bit of a marathon.

Everyone else in the family has become obsessed with flags. I know it’s anti-intellectual but this is not an area of learning in which I can muster any interest. I know I’m always saying to the children that anything can be interesting if you learn about it but, personally, I seem to be hitting a brick wall on this one. Here’s what the family whatsapp group looks like these days.

Friday, July 3, 2020

This is the end of civility: we got an email from facilities management asking us not to hold the door open for each other. Understandable, I suppose. I managed to tear myself away from the office by 3. This half day on Friday is so often observed in the breach that I wonder whether I should give it up altogether and go back to full time working.

Herself went for her x-ray and they diagnosed a torn ligament and gave her a compression sock thing. She had to cycle to and from the appointment as her parents have really taken to this new regime where she deals with her own medical appointments.

Dr. Tony Holohan, the CMO who has been guiding the nation through the corona virus thing has stepped back. Never has a nation loved a public servant more. His wife has cancer and is going into palliative care and he is going to look after her and their two teenagers. How grim. In early March, someone from Limerick (background – Dr. Holohan is from Limerick) said to me that she thought his wife had terminal cancer. I never heard anything further about it in the media or anywhere else and I thought that my Limerick source was wrong but in fact she was right. Loads of people must have known and I find it reassuring that in a tiny country like this, people respected his privacy and, as far as I know, not a word got out publicly until he decided to tell people himself.

For cinema night we had “Red”. A comedy action movie about a former CIA agent – Bruce Willis – who is being hunted by the CIA. The plot is complex – I suspect more than one screen writer had a hand in it. It was enjoyable in places but I was pleased that all of my children were well able to identify the misogynistic tropes which it included – for example, good guy kidnaps the girl and she falls in love with him. I think we can all acknowledge that kidnap is not the path to a loving relationship founded on mutual respect.

Saturday, July 4, 2020

One of the neighbours has opened up a fancy coffee van. We went to buy pastries. On the way we inspected the new road layout to facilitate temporary bollards at the end of the road. Saturday morning thrills. Am I turning into Mr. Pooter here? Please, no replies.

Michael and I went into town and went to an art gallery (for me) and various game shops (for him) and had pizza. It was the most normal set of Saturday activities in ages. I also made him have a go on an electric bicycle. He didn’t love it.

We booked the rest of our summer holiday in Ireland. Hallelujah.

Daniel’s friend called to see if he would like to go on a basketball course. He would. When is it? One of the weeks we are away. Of course.

Plague Diary – Part XIV

29 June, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Monday, June 15, 2020

My sister sent us a care package – gifts for all! It was very thrilling. She sent me a new pair of very expensive headphones and they are complex to use but, ultimately, I expect to get on top of it.

It was my mother’s anniversary and I was a bit sad but alright really.

My little niece in London was three and her mother assured us that she liked the books we sent. She herself wasn’t entirely prepared to commit herself.

I had written a letter to my friend in America a while ago and she rang me to thank me for it and we chatted and she asked whether we were still going on holidays to America this summer. We are not (â‚¬5,000 in flights which, I fear, we will never get back, so bitter – I may have covered this previously – at least we got our accommodation money back, I suppose). She asked whether we would like to go to their summer house in Kinsale in July as, for obvious reasons, they are not going themselves this year. I decided that yes, we would. We are still tussling over payment; she refuses to accept any, Mr. Waffle insists, we’re at stalemate. Anyway, we’re going which is great, it’s a lovely house in Sandycove outside the town with beautiful views and adjacent Cork city. Hurrah. In other news, she and her husband are doctors and were fearing the worst in Vermont but she said that, somewhat to her surprise, it’s been fine there. So good for them.

Mr. Waffle went out to visit his mother for the first time since March. Nursing home visits are re-starting very slowly. She seemed ok but it was all a bit strange he said. He swung by his parents’ house which his brother is in the process of cleaning out and picked up an old round table which he thought would be good for the kitchen here. When he got it home, he reconstructed it in the utility room and it wouldn’t fit through the door to the kitchen so, now it lives there.

Herself got a notification that she was a finalist in an essay competition and was pleased.

Dan and I cycled to the re-opened public tennis courts after work. Dan was nearly hit by a speeding car (traffic is not yet back to normal and cars out and about are pretty speedy). It was so close that I actually felt physically ill afterwards and really wasn’t in form to play tennis which was just as well as all the courts were full and there was a big queue of people waiting to get on. We could really do with some extra cycle lanes round here.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My sister sent me a bunch of flowers for Mum’s anniversary but they only arrived today due to a mix up. My mother loved to have flowers in the house and so do I. I felt a bit tearful which was strange because the day before had been fine but it was the thoughtfulness of the flowers that did for me. Needless to say, I had sent her nothing.

I put them on my home office desk.

My friend R who is now retired and puts in time in a charity shop in Ranelagh tells me that they have a complete set of the most recent version of the full Oxford English Dictionary (1989 apparently) in 20 volumes and unless someone buys it soon it’s going to be pulped. â‚¬300 or nearest offer, I understand. A bit tragic, but who has room for 20 volumes of dictionaries?

I showed Daniel a photograph of my bookclub and he said in surprise, “I had no idea that they were all so old.” Alas.

Herself finally went back to the orthodontist and he snapped off the piece of metal that has been gouging holes in the side of her mouth for the last three months. So a win on that front but she has been too assiduous in putting on her bands (apparently most people don’t follow direction and they allow for that, honestly) and now she has to undergo some other hellish process. Alas.

I overheard herself and Mr. Waffle speaking in the kitchen. She said, “Mum believes saints are everyone who goes to heaven and not just those identified by the church.” I called out from the other room, “And I’m right.” She said, “Well we’ll only really know if you’re right when we’re dead.” Hmm.

Today was Bloomsday. Having listened to the audio book earlier this year, I felt uniquely ready but it wasn’t really the year to show off my newly acquired knowledge.

Wednesday, 17 June, 2020

Mr. Waffle went into town and bought us a new magimix the old one having finally died after many years of faithful service. He said it was pretty weird in the shops.

My father was finally discharged from hospital so that evening after work, I drove to Cork to see him. I found packing strange after all these months of staying at home. I had a letter from my father’s GP saying he was pretty ill (to cover my travelling about 230kms beyond the permitted 20kms) but in the event, no one stopped me. It’s funny because you think everyone is out there living it up travelling all over the country but they’re not. There were hardly any cars on the Dublin-Cork road and most of the traffic was freight.

I arrived to Cork and helped my father to bed. I thought I could stay 2 metres away but that was completely unrealistic. He really needed help walking and getting in to bed and taking off his shoes (one of his big toes points up in the air, a side effect of stroke he told me, he knew what it’s called in Latin but I have forgotten) and I wasn’t really in a position to stand 2 metres away and say, “Good luck with that” as he keeled over. I did wear my mask though which was quite disastrous as he is very deaf and, at the best of times, finds it hard to hear. He was really quite unwell and a bit grumpy but it was very nice to see him all the same.

My brother (an enthusiastic cyclist) told me that he had cycled to Kinsale (about 30 kms away) on Tuesday. When he was just outside the town, his chain had broken. As he was walking along the side of the road, a friend of his from school passed, picked him up and gave him a lift back to Cork. I mean, what are the odds? Not sure whether it was entirely coronavirus compliant but what was he to do?

Thursday, June 18, 2020

I was jerked awake at regular intervals all night by Radio 4 which was on at top volume. I would drift off and then be woken up by a new voice on the radio. At 6 in the morning, I could stand it no longer and marched in to my father’s bedroom to turn it off. I forgot to wear my mask. He was delighted to see me as I could help him get up. I refused on the grounds that it was much too early. He accepted this but as I was leaving asked me to turn on the radio again. Largely a defeat then.

Later, I helped him up and, after giving him breakfast, ensconced my father in his armchair downstairs. I set up my home office in the dining room and he asked me to leave the door open into the drawing room. “I like to hear the voices.” “Of course,” I said. I was summoned at regular intervals to do things – find glasses, find tissues, find his wallet. I was also quite busy at work and I had a whole new appreciation of what my brother and sister in Cork have to deal with.

I particularly enjoyed the moment when I was having a meeting and he summoned me. “I told you I was in a meeting, Dad,” I said grumpily. “But I didn’t hear you talking,” said he, utterly unfazed.

At lunch time I went into the market in Cork to buy the wherewithal for my favourite ham sandwich. It felt pretty much like usual, maybe a bit emptier and there was someone regulating the flow of people in and out, and a lot more perspex than previously.

In the late afternoon, I persuaded my father to have a ham sandwich too. “He won’t have dinner now,” said my brother gloomily. I was amazed but my brother turned out to be quite right. My poor father, he has got so thin and frail. This is 95, I suppose. Good ham sandwich though.

That evening the internet went down. I rejoiced because my father was unable to listen to his internet radio. I am sorry but there it is.

Friday, June 19, 2020

I worked away until early afternoon and then took my half day. My morning was interrupted by regular requests from my father next door. My favourite being when I was on to a colleague asking about some work she was doing and he summoned me. I said I’d call her back and went in to him, “Is that someone who works for you?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “Should you not be more formal and firm?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I said. He said, “I heard you ask whether she had holiday plans.” Dear God in heaven. “I thought it was an emergency,” I said grumpily, “you’re like the boy who cried wolf.” “Well,” said my father, “he was right once.” Later, I was on to another colleague and she said, “Anne, sorry but is that ‘The Archers’ playing very loudly in the background?” This working from home lark can be a bit of a strain.

I spent some time talking to my father about family history. The only new piece of information he gave me was that his father had been called, “Copper”. His father died when my father was 10 and he had no idea why he had this nickname. He had just overheard someone point him out as “Copper’s son”. A mystery.

I visited my 90 year old aunt in the afternoon, mask at the ready. She was not keen on the mask. “Are you worried about getting coronavirus?” she asked. “No, I’m worried about giving it to you.” She was unconvinced and persisted in trying to get me to take off my mask. I resisted. I wished her a happy birthday for the following day when she would turn 91. “It’s a great age,” she said happily (she’s in such good nick), “although your father is 95 and he was always delicate as a child.” Just goes to show. “Do you have any idea why your father was nicknamed ‘Copper’?” I asked her. “Yes, he had red hair.” I mean who knew? There’s a mystery resolved for my father after many years.

There were some extra bikes in the shed in Cork, not as healthy as they might be but my sister encouraged me to take them back to Dublin with me for repair and passing on to the boys as as they are far too big for their own bikes.

I said farewell to my elderly relatives really, really glad I had seen them and hopeful that I had not infected them coming as I did from plague infested Leinster. My sister and I went for a short walk and then I hopped into the car to go home.

I was welcomed at home with the kind of enthusiasm I thought was gone for ever. The kind of enthusiasm that small children have for their parents. They all ran into the hall to hug me. Very gratifying. The shed in Dublin is now bike central.

I was home just in time for cinema night, we had been told that we would move to Phase 3 on June 29. I’m getting a bit confused about what phase involves what and when they begin and end but rejoicing etc. and good news that real GAA training begins July 1. We had “I, Tonya” for cinema night and it was very good but something lighthearted would be welcome.

Saturday, June 20, 2020

My sister rang me to tell me that my father fell over soon after I left the house in Cork. He seems to be ok but a bit shaken. I wouldn’t really call it a great omen.

My aunt’s 91st birthday; I got her a subscription to Slightly Foxed. Let us hope that she likes it and remembers that I am the donor.

Daniel and I had zoom GAA. He did his reps, I did the zooming. We are old hands at this stage. Mr. Waffle has done some kind of online training for GAA parents to ensure they understand social distancing for the return to real training.

I got a notification from my Sunday afternoon bookclub that our hostess was considering a real live meeting on July 16. I was filled with delight.

As well as the bikes, I took from Cork my mother’s toasted sandwich maker bought in Brittany about 40 years ago. It has served us faithfully since but they don’t use it much in Cork any more so I asked to bring it to Dublin. Still an excellent piece of kit. Behold the toasted egg sandwich; our own invention.

Herself went out to a friend’s house. The portrait of the children arrived. I still don’t love it. Alas. Oh well. It started to feel like life was really getting back to normal.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

It was actual Father’s Day. The children made cards for their father but actual presents after the previous weekend’s efforts were thin on the ground. He didn’t seem to mind. It was the longest day of the year. The weather was beautiful. We went out to Howth. The traffic was bumper to bumper but we got there eventually. I made them listen to Bagatelle in the car because I am determined to pass on my irremediably uncool musical tastes to my children. We swam in the sea (well, three of us did, Michael and Mr. Waffle resisted) and it was a lovely, lovely afternoon.

Monday, June 22, 2020

Busy day at work again. Herself went to a party that evening for her friend’s 18th. Five people only she assured me but I felt a bit unsure whether this was a good idea although within the rules. I had my Monday night bookclub via zoom and suggested tentatively that our next meeting might be in the flesh but this was vetoed. I felt a bit chastened.

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Yet another trying day at work. Daniel went out to play basketball with a friend which he really enjoyed. It feels like maybe the beginning of the end.

We spent all dinner talking about flags of the world. I am not a flag fan. They children all know a lot about flags. I blame their father.

Mr. Waffle and I looked at holiday homes in Ireland for August. There are none.

Mr. Waffle bought a book from a German academic publisher. They love their titles.

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Yet another immensely trying day in the salt mines. It may be for this reason that I ate them all at lunch time because the dish washer had not been unloaded and reloaded. This is the children’s task and it is pretty much constant.

Daniel had his last Wednesday night zoom training. We rejoice.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

After my grumpiness the previous day, Daniel was up at 9 unloading the dishwasher. I felt a bit guilty but, you know, pleased that the dishwasher was unloaded.

Saintly Mr. Waffle has spent the week wrestling with the children’s online school book purchasing website. He finally got past the impressive obstacles put in his way and next year’s school books have been bought.

Daniel made us all pizza for dinner and we had it in the garden as the weather was fine and it all felt festive and holiday like and after dinner we played cards which was fun too. It was a nice evening towards the end of a tough week.

Friday, June 26, 2020

I talked to my Cork friend in Brussels by video call. A big corona virus dividend the video calling with friends abroad.

The children had their second last zoom call with their French language tutor who has been coming live from Paris twice a week – we promised it would finish end June so next Tuesday is the absolute last day. I think both they and the tutor really welcome this but it has worked pretty well.

Later, I went into town with herself to pick up an elaborate breakfast we had ordered which we planned to serve the following day.

We went to the bread shop to get bread but they were sold out. However, they gave herself a free bun so not a dead loss.

Mr. Waffle made sourdough bread but it was…unsuccessful. One of our lessons of lock down may be that home made sourdough is not for us.

Meanwhile Daniel had a first piano lesson with a neighbour up the road. His uncle who is a very good piano player has a keyboard he can lend him and he can practice on that. He’s quite excited. Please let us not speak of the reasons we do not have a piano.

After the success of the previous evening, I decided we would eat out again and stuck some burgers on the barbecue and dispatched herself and Mr. Waffle to the vegan chipper nearby for some suitable treats. By the time they came back, it was lashing and we had to cart everything back in again. Alas.

All the details of what phase 3 would involve were published, it feels like almost back to normal though not quite.

The Greens agreed to go into government and we finally have a new government after months of negotiations. V excitingly we have a Cork Taoiseach for the first time since 1979. Some mild local colour at the link for Cork enthusiasts.

Herself had a zoom session to hear whether she had won the essay competition but, alas, she had not. Oh well, she gets a goodie bag for being a finalist so there’s that.

After a day of many excitements, we sat down to watch “The Blues Brothers” for cinema night. Cast of thousands. V. successful.

Saturday, 27 June, 2020

I was so grumpy. Inexplicably so. I think perhaps it’s because we’re entering a new phase of what the French call “dÃ©confinement” and I’m not quite sure what comes next.

Herself put together our breakfast and it was excellent.

I went out and picked rubbish with the neighbours for an hour or so. The grabber I got for my birthday (still a weird present choice) proved very useful. It lashed on us. Middle aged delights.

My saintly husband felt I might need to get out, so we cycled into town and then signed up for the new electric bike hire service. We picked up a couple of bikes and whizzed around the city centre delighted with ourselves. Not as good on the uphill as we might have hoped and a bit expensive but pretty good fun all the same. And then we had takeaway tea and a bun outside. Food served and made by someone else. The excitement. Also, some cygnets in Stephen’s Green.

My sister told me that Cork local radio has nothing on but profiles of the new Taoiseach. When I was in Cork, I asked my father if he had ever met the last Cork Taoiseach, Jack Lynch. Apparently once on the train shortly after Jack Lynch became Taoiseach and he walked up and down the train shaking hands with all the passengers.

Sunday, 28 June, 2020

As we get ready to move into phase 3, it really feels like the end of an era. I know colleagues with small children can send them back to childcare on Monday and I think it’s going to make things a lot easier though I expect that there will be a side order of guilt with that.

It was a breezy, blustery day and, aside from a short walk outside, it feels like Mr. Waffle and I spent all day looking for holiday accommodation in Ireland. There is almost none. We have one week in August booked. This does not much of a holiday make, I have to tell you. More searching to follow.

And tomorrow, I’m in to the office in town for the first time since the end of March. It feels so strange. I won’t be going back every day from now on but much more regularly, I imagine.

And next week, my menfolk are finally getting their hair cut.

And there’s a second Cork Taoiseach – here he is having a walk around in his constituency. There are definitely some people in the crowd who are not of his political persuasion but, a Cork Taoiseach is a Cork Taoiseach.

Probably a good moment to end the plague diary for the moment.

Do you feel that it’s over or is this only the calm before the second storm?