The HSE now address me as follows all the time: “Hi Anne, aged 54”. I cannot say I love it. Anyhow, I have booked myself a Covid booster for later in the month on foot of their email.
And work gave me a free flu jab which I felt it was probably best to take. No after effects happily not even a sore arm. Look, we take our wins where we can at the moment.
I put in four days last week. Monday was a bank holiday. It definitely felt like five.
I spent the week trying to get to grips with my new role, meeting my new team, sorting out the office, the IT, the HR stuff and all the rest of it. My boss is lovely. Thank God.
So far I have identified four advantages of my return to work:
Advantages or no, I am feeling strong Sunday night feelings tonight and I do not like it.
Earlier this week, I went for a cycle in the park with my loving husband. The place was pretty much deserted on a damp Monday afternoon.
We had a cup of tea at the lake.
Then we headed for home where we arrived safely notwithstanding the fact that this stag looked pretty dubious about our bikes. You have to imagine the sound effects – Mr. Waffle saying in increasingly urgent but low pitched tones, “Don’t stop to take a picture, keep cycling.”
The weather was lovely on Wednesday and I went for a swim in the sea with my friend who swims in the sea every day of the year. She has several pairs of magic little bootees which fool your body into thinking it’s not going to be unbelievably cold. I am a big fan. I think I might buy my own for summer time swimming which would look stupid but do I even care anymore? It was lovely swimming – yes really – and then we went for lunch afterwards.
We went to Wicklow overnight with the in-laws. Of the younger generation, only Michael and the youngest cousin (6) came but they both seemed to have a good time. Daniel was home alone for the first time. Delighted.
It was lovely to see everyone and my only regret was the bank holiday traffic which was horrendous. In fairness Wicklow (the garden of Ireland as it styles itself) was looking pretty good.
My sister was in Dublin for the weekend and came to dinner last night. It was great to see her. To my absolute horror I realised that her birthday is coming up in November and somehow, in all of the other excitement, I am not as on top of her present as I might be. Never mind, there’s still time. She filled me in on her extensive building works – she’s moved out until Christmas at least. Terrifying.
Today Mr. Waffle and I cycled to Howth, stopping off for breakfast on the way. I raced him back – I wanted to cycle and he was going to get the suburban train, the DART which allows you to bring your bike on board on bank holidays. I got home first but, alas for him, he had to cycle as well as the DART was undergoing bank holiday Monday repairs. I feel that correct competition conditions were not observed. Howth was looking lovely although there was a woman photographing a rat sitting up and eating some fruit and nuts on the pier. “He’s only a baby and people keep leaving stuff out for him,” she explained. He looked very large for a baby, if you ask me.
I am fully decorated for Halloween tomorrow.
Although none of my decorations are as effective as those of my neighbours up the road who have impaled turnip heads on the spikes of their garden fence.
A busy week. What am I trying to avoid thinking about? Why the return to work tomorrow. It has been fantastic being off. I’ve been lucky to do it. And the job I’m going back to will be grand, I think. But currently this music is playing on repeat in my head. As the young people say, “If you know, you know.” Wish me luck.
A colleague just sent me this picture with the caption “glad to see that you’re still working on your sabbatical”. He thinks it’s the image of me. Really?
Well, we’re back from holidays, the boys are back at school, herself is on holidays in Spain and Mr. Waffle is back in his office. I am officially home alone. So far, I LOVE it. It helps that my former colleagues have been having a truly torrid time. I feel slightly guilty but mostly delighted not to be in the thick of it.
I have many, many tales to bring you from our summer holidays. Hold on to your hats etc.
Mr. Waffle went to Warsaw for a college reunion trip. He was a bit nervous because of much trailed airport chaos. In the end it was fine in Dublin but his KLM flight did get cancelled because of chaos at Schipol and he had to fly back Ryanair which he did not love. One of the people on the trip was someone who is a former colleague of mine.
Meanwhile a current colleague of mine was flying via Warsaw after a trip to Armenia to see the Irish football team (a slightly crazy level of devotion, if you ask me and one which is rarely rewarded with a win). He flew via Warsaw and as he was sitting having a drink in the pub at the airport a hand tapped him on the shoulder and, of course, it was his former colleague on her way back from the reunion.
Michael asked me recently why the Irish divorce level is so low and I think it must be because people cannot have affairs. No matter where you go there will always, always be someone you know waiting to tap you on the shoulder.