Work

Saying Farewell to the Longest July on Record

30 July, 2020
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

Monday, July 27, 2020

Another busy day in the salt mines but I was home by 7.30 which was terrific. We had our deferred cinema night. Herself selected “Ils sont partout” which was funny in places. It’s about being Jewish in France.

Tuesday, July 28, 2020

Work was trying. I was sustained by the fact that it was our 19th wedding anniversary. Furthermore, to celebrate, Mr. Waffle had booked us dinner in Guilbaud’s. It was lovely and only very slightly marred by my getting a work call at 8.30.

I might take this opportunity to be mildly smug about how great my husband is. I feel, frankly, that I chose wisely.

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Work is starting to get a bit quieter and I rejoiced as I was home by 7. Small thrills. Herself made risotto for dinner. What a talent.

Thursday, July 30, 2020

I met a friend for lunch. It felt relatively daring.

Rentokil returned to our house to investigate the sounds in the Princess’s bedroom. They did a very thorough job according to Mr. Waffle and found nothing whatsoever which, obviously, is very welcome at one level but, as herself said, what is causing that noise then? A mystery and not really a satisfactory one.

And in “you will struggle to find a more typically Irish story” news, I got an email from a woman I used to work with 25 years ago who I am still reasonably pally with. She told me that a former colleague’s mother had died. She added in a bit of news about herself and her daughter (who is now 27 and who I first met aged 2 – an extraordinary thought). Her daughter’s boyfriend lives near me so she finds herself in my part of town more than previously. I encouraged her to drop in next time she was here. She said her daughter’s boyfriend’s mother actually grew up on our street. A house with a green door about two-thirds of the way down on the left. In fact, yes, you guessed it, we bought his deceased grandmother’s house. Now so, isn’t it a small world?

Tomorrow will see us heading off on our summer holidays. Not, sadly, to America (although, possibly, maybe we will get our money for flights back – very excited). And although I will, sadly, be accompanied by my laptop, I am hopeful that I won’t have to spend too much time bonding with it. I’ll tell you all about our Irish holiday when I get back. Something for you to look forward to.

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 XII

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

Monday, May 25, 2020

We have no real engagements in our private life any more. This is what the family google calendar looks like now.

We contacted the orthodontist (herself is still miserable with the snapped brace) and she has an appointment for mid-June so that’s something I suppose.

I rang the council to ask about the tennis courts and spoke to a very nice man who said he was only a lowly functionary but the “higher ups” were concerned as council courts and golf clubs couldn’t reopen as, unlike private clubs, they couldn’t guarantee the disinfectant and social distancing required. At least I know why now. I enjoyed the frank exposition of the position which makes sense, I suppose but it does seem a pity. I might see whether I can rejoin the tennis club if this goes on much longer.

Herself continued her examinations. Her maths teacher, in what can only be called an excess of dedication/sadistic exercise, set each child a different paper based on his or her weaknesses. I understand it was in part due to a desire to limit opportunities for, ahem, teamwork. She said it was alright.

Daniel and Michael cycled into school to pick up their stuff from their lockers. We’re a bit unclear about what they are going to do now that they are on holidays and don’t want them to spend every waking hour online. In a non-synchronised effort which could have done with a little more preparation, I told them that they couldn’t play on any electronic devices in the afternoon and Mr. Waffle told them no devices in the morning. The difficulty only emerged at lunch time and we were merciful and let them on devices in the afternoon. What are we going to do all summer?

I had my online book club in the evening and work proceeded on the jigsaw.

No corona virus deaths announced today which must surely be a good sign. I feel filled with, perhaps unwarranted, optimism.

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

I got a mystery bill (by letter) for â‚¬2.14 from UPS. I have never had an account with them as far as I know. But it seems an odd amount to try to scam from me. I have sent them an email querying it but I am half inclined to pay it as I am weak and feeble and it is only â‚¬2.14.

Herself had her German exam which she said was fine. “Fine” is possibly the most overused word in describing school work and exams to parents. She is busy editing an online quarantine magazine put together with her friends.

The boys are at a bit of a loose end. Related: we finished another jigsaw.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Mr. Waffle made sourdough. While it rose a bit more than previous attempts, I am afraid it cannot be called a complete success. Sourdough is a cruel mistress. He also bought croissants for breakfast. Complete success there.

The fine weather broke. The grass was looking a bit brown and sorry for us and Dublin water supplies were, as ever, on a knife edge, so for the best.

Herself had her applied maths exam. It was hard going. She informed us dolefully that the teacher had said there would be some easy questions and some hard ones and she couldn’t tell which were which. Oh dear.

With the return of outdoor workers, we got a man in to fix the basket ball hoop. Rejoicing.

The cat was going crazy this morning trying to get into the oven. File footage of the cat going crazy:

We ignored it as best we might looking nervously at the unremovable fitted kitchen which surrounded the oven.

I missed lunch due to work issues. Bitter.

At about 5.15 as I was toiling over a hot laptop, I heard a commotion outside. Daniel had kicked a ball through the shed window and the basketball into the next door neighbour’s garden. I texted the neighbours who dutifully tossed back the ball; Michael and I went to sweep up the glass in the shed while Daniel had a restorative bowl of cereal (recovering from the shock of it not being a catastrophic pane of glass to break – level of parental ire: mild).

When I got back to the kitchen, Daniel was pointing at the oven in horror, “There’s a noise, behind the oven.” There was, kind of a fluttery sound, could it be a bird? The unit around the oven is sealed and although there is a small hole at the top, how could a bird have got in? Mr. Waffle said bracingly that it probably flew in the back door but Occam’s razor suggests that it was not a bird that had got in there but something much more sinister.

Aside here on rats and mice. A colleague told me he was bringing up tea to his wife on Saturday morning and thought he saw movement in the bed while she was in the bathroom but said nothing. When she got back into bed, she thought she felt a mild muscle spasm in her leg but didn’t investigate. When she got up to make the bed she found a small dead mouse in the bed. Great unhappiness. The working theory is that she squashed it when she got back into bed. Then another friend of mine had rats under the decking (classic) and called in Rentokil. They told her that, with the lock down, restaurants were largely closed and not only was the usual food supply not there but in normal times restaurants are constantly putting down poison to ensure that vermin are rigorously excluded from their premises but, obviously, not now. So there’s an uptick in rats etc. Good news.

Anyhow, there were myself and Daniel staring horror struck at the oven when Mr. Waffle arrived in to say that Daniel had a zoom training session at 5.30. I undertook to do training, if he would deal with the noise. I did training. Daniel did 800 reps in 45 minutes. I didn’t even know what a rep was before this (it’s one exercise, like a push up or whatever). Those teenage GAA players are the fittest people you will ever meet. Did Mr. Waffle get out our (best case scenario) trapped bird? He did not. I finished work. We went for a long walk. When we came back we heard a scrabbling noise behind the oven. I mean now we appeared to be moving to best case scenario dead bird behind the cooker. My sister suggested we might sprinkle lime behind the cooker. Dear God. I think we might have to get the basketball hoop handyman back to extract the oven and peer behind.

After dinner herself went to her room to recover from the undoubted traumas of the day. Mr. Waffle, the boys and I played an extremely competitive variant of happy families.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

I woke up at 3 in the morning with a sore finger from where I got a thorn in it at the weekend. Early start to the day with a tweezers and needle. Not recommended.

The cat was indifferent to the oven. There were no more noises. Mr. Waffle is inclined to ignore the problems, sweep them behind the oven, if you will but I continue to be…concerned. Herself, who sleeps over the kitchen, announced that she heard a fluttering noise under her floorboards overnight.

The boys made lunch and herself made dinner. I began to realise that just because I now work at the desk where previously I sat to do domestic admin does not mean that I can complete all of my domestic admin and my work admin in the space of the working day notwithstanding the fact that I am now have no commuting time. I am also increasingly realising that talking to people at work about non-work things helps work to work and it is hard to replace with video conferencing.

Friday, May 29, 2020

Rejoice for the bank holiday weekend and glorious weather. We got a nice bread delivery. It was the last day of school and exams for herself and she celebrated by going for a picnic with friends in the park. She hasn’t been sunburnt for years as she is assiduous about covering herself up and putting on suncream but she missed a large swathe of her back and was burnt to a frazzle.

The boys were also enjoying their new found freedom to meet friends on a socially distanced basis outside and met friends in the park for what they assure me was a very successful dungeons and dragons session.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a middle aged but delightful stroll around the botanic gardens.

We had a barbecue for dinner and afterwards had “Seven Psychopaths” for our Friday evening film. I wouldn’t have chosen it myself but not bad. Colin Farrell was excellent. Half way through, one of the children said, “Hang on, is he Irish?” Yes, my cherubim, he is.

Daniel said excitedly that it had been his busiest day since lock down started : French class in the morning (still ongoing despite protests), Dungeons and Dragons in the afternoon and barbecue and film in the evening. The poor child.

Saturday, 30 May, 2020

I was up bright and early to film Dan for his GAA zoom training session. I picked all my peonies as peonies are not consistent with GAA training.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled to the village 5 kms away which I used to find utterly charming and delightful but now is palling slightly.

Cow parsley was growing in great profusion along the river banks. I find myself in some difficulty with cow parsley. In the interior design focussed, occasionally twee and whimsical, corner of instagram I now inhabit (having abandoned twitter as too vicious), people love cow parsley, my God, they love it. Now my mother was a farmer’s daughter, my grandfather and uncle were farmers and a number of my cousins are farmers. I will tell you this, farmers are not taken with cow parsley, they do not see its interior decorating charm and we grew up being told it smelled of cow urine. I can’t say whether this is accurate as, being a city girl myself, my experience of cows is not extensive, but yet, I cannot love cow parsley and pick it in great photogenic armfuls to sit in my bike basket. Too many of my relatives, alive and dead, would snigger at me. Maybe next year.

We dutifully hosted the online quiz which we won last week. It’s more fun guessing than asking the questions. I did enjoy reading the quotes for the poetry round though.

Sunday, May 31, 2020

I got up late which is something I really quite enjoy and don’t get to do very often. We dutifully completed the cleaning rota now in its tenth week (sigh). I had my Sunday book club (not to be confused with my Monday book club) which I hadn’t had for four weeks. We are hoping for a real, non-virtual one in July. Do I indulge optimism too far?

We cycled to the seaside and had chips on the seafront as a bank holiday treat. I’ve had worse. Herself announced, “I have yet again inadvertently swallowed an elastic.” Upon observing tactless laughter, she added bitterly, “Oh yes, serving up orthodontic humour since 2018.”

My father went back into hospital (small private not large acute, but still unsatisfactory). I feel strong regret that I did not drive down to Cork to see him while he was at home. There is zero chance they will let me in to the hospital. As soon as he gets out, I will hotfoot it to Cork with my letter from his GP saying he is very sick and hope to be let through by the Guards. My father’s alright, I think, as in not going to die immediately, but frail and 95 and in hospital so not, you know, great.

Monday, June 1, 2020

I brought out the paddling pool. Mr. Waffle mocked me but we all ended up paddling, so there. We spent all day in the back garden in glorious sunshine. Herself went to meet friends for a picnic in the botanic gardens. She made cake.

Mr. Waffle said that he liked how our lives are less frantic at the moment. I know what he means a bit. We were always squeezing things in and running to training or to meetings (residents’ committee, parents’ committee, you name it) after work but I don’t quite see how we will preserve this post lock down.

Back off on my bicycle to the village 5 km away. Honestly, I’m beginning to think it will be too soon, if I never go there again.

Tuesday, June 2, 2020

This was my first day off work in the new dispensation. I struggled a little bit to know what to do with a day’s holiday. It was a beautiul day but I didn’t quite know what might be different or novel or a treat. I felt the boys needed a bit of exercise so we cycled to the botanic gardens again. They were less than entranced.

It was warm and sunny and not bad but just a bit…repetitive. My day’s triumph was making homemade lemonade which was very nice indeed. We take our thrills where we can.

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

I paid for my day off and was pretty busy at work. I am sick of video conference calls. My sister, who has worked for large multinational companies since leaving college, has been managing remote teams for years and I sense that she is mildly smug as the rest of us struggle with the new dispensation.

My father has been diagnosed with a new illness to add to the long list he has already. As my sister says, it’s chronic which means you can have it for a long time, but still, not maybe a great sign. No word on when he will be let out of hospital.

Daniel had training at 5.30. I have been doing the zooming with him but a work crisis meant I was chained to my laptop so Mr. Waffle took over. Daniel deemed him unsatisfactory: he did not explain the exercises; he failed to count Daniel’s reps (hark at me); he kept saying Daniel should give up if he was tired (Mr. Waffle does not have the same puritanical streak as me); and, worst of all, his phone ran out of battery ten minutes before the end and herself had to be deployed to put an extension lead out the utility room window. Unfortunately, there’s a bit of a knack to the window and herself hasn’t got it so that led to further delay and unhappiness. I have a friend who says that when people say that “there’s a bit of a knack to it” they really just mean, “it’s broken”. This is, arguably, true.

At the start of the lockdown, I commissioned an artist whose stuff I had seen on instagram to paint a portrait of the children. It seemed like a nice thing to do. I sent her loads of photos of the kids so even though she couldn’t see them, she knew what they looked like and she felt it would work ok. Yesterday she sent me a picture of the picture which I will be picking up next week. When I signed the contract with her it provided that she retained the copyright (standard, apparently) and I was sad but now that I have seen it, I will never want to show it anywhere, so that’s ok. I’m not quite sure what went wrong. I saw her other stuff and liked it. But this picture, oh dear. Actually Daniel is ok but Michael looks manic and, as my sister said, herself looks ok but just 30 years older than she actually is. Alas, an expensive and ultimately unsatisfactory experiment. Look, at least I will be spared framing costs. And on the plus side my (not at all expensive when compared to the cost of commissioning a picture) new oven gloves from Marimekko arrived and I love them. I got a pair previously as a present and I can really recommend them: stylish yet practical. It has come to this.

Thursday, June 4, 2020

Another busy day in the salt mines. Herself made an extraordinarily elaborate dinner which was very nice on two counts: firstly, it was very nice and, secondly, I didn’t have to cook it. She was chopping and dicing from lunchtime onwards.

She called it East, East, East, East fusion: gyoza from Japan, spring rolls from China, saffron rice and carmelised lettuce from, maybe, Iran (I forget) and vereniki from Eastern Europe (generally rather than a specific local recipe). As Mr. Waffle said, “At least we won’t have to worry that she won’t be able to feed herself when she leaves home.” There was lemon sorbet and raspberry sorbet with chocolate sauce for dessert but I haven’t got any pictures.

My brother has a new job in Dublin. Theoretically at least. He won’t actually be let into his new office until autumn at the earliest, I’d say so he’ll be based in Cork for a while yet. He is pleased. We are pleased that he will be in Dublin. I’m a bit worried about my sister alone in Cork minding elderly relatives but she seemed sanguine when I spoke to her.

Also, it’s been a week since the fluttery noise. No update. Ominous.

Plague Diary – Part VIII

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

Sunday, April 26, 2020

We cleaned again. I am slightly amazed by the efficacy of the Sunday cleaning rota. I’ve printed it out for another 5 weeks which is a little depressing though. Mr. Waffle and I went for a mild walk. All of the children have said that I am unusually grumpy, so I suppose it must be true. I believe I am as sunny as ever but, apparently, I’m a bit short-tempered. Alas.

My father is not really very well and he’s going into hospital tomorrow so that they can have a look at him and see whether they can change his medication and make him feel a little better. It’s a bit grim in Cork, I think.

Paying for my credit card bill online on my phone, I accidentally transferred the money to the gas company with whom I no longer have an account. There is really no excuse for this idiocy. I suppose I’ll have to write to them.

Monday, April 27, 2020

Everyone was a bit glum. My father has gone into hospital for a week so they can have a look at him. His GP says that he has never seen the hospital emptier; it’s a small private hospital that generally does elective procedures. As I said to herself when we went for a walk at lunchtime, “The hospital is really quiet, it’s like a morgue apparently.” Honestly, I’d want to watch my cliche use. My back and neck are quite sore. I suspect it is being chained to the desk more than usual and the absence of any approved ergonomic set up.

Daniel and I cycled in the park. We did not love it but we did it.

I had my online bookclub. Almost a full complement of members attended. We’re all at the end of our tether it transpires.

My camellia has finally reluctantly yielded a solitary bloom. No sign of the lilac producing anything as of yet.

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Herself arrived down to breakfast looking very glamorous. She is keeping standards alive during lock down and, as the young people say, I am here for it.

Another trying day in the salt mines. I managed to complete a difficult piece of work, so there’s that but another irritant is, well, irritating. I may need a change, I feel.

Mr. Waffle made dinner allowing herself and myself to go off for a cycle in the park. It was a welcome diversion after a day chained to the desk.

I tried my hand at sourdough. It did not rise. We are definitely downhearted. For one thing, that’s 400grms of strong white flour gone and it’s hard stuff to get hold of. Not a great shot, it didn’t look great in non-blurry reality either.

Our neighbourhood whatsapp group is now exclusively about bread and flour and where you can get them.

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Today’s extremely trying day at work was improved by Mr. Waffle calling me away to look at pictures of the children when they were small. He is backing up all of our digital photographic archive on a single storage device and I love him. He made lunch as well. What a hero.

Today’s announcement is that the Junior Cert is definitely off. My poor sons, but I think that this time they mean it. We are all counting the days until the school holidays begin at the end of May. The teachers are setting a lot of work and the children are sick of it. Poor mites.

The airbnb I had booked for our summer holidays in the US refunded me my money – they’re letting it out long term now. I thought that money was gone forever so that’s a plus, I suppose. It turns out though that I don’t want the money so much as the things I thought I was buying with it. I’m sad that my tiny (almost non-existent) hope that we might get to America this summer has now been utterly quashed. Oh well.

Meanwhile, the hospital told my brother that my father fell out of his chair last night but he’s fine. But yet. Overall, he seems to be doing pretty well in hospital. He is delighted to be completely vindicated in relation to his medication. When he was in the orthopaedic hospital at the start of the pandemic, they changed his regime and he was furious. My sister refused to smuggle in his pills. But, it transpires he was quite right and part of the reason he is in hospital now is to deal with the knock-on impact of decisions they made in the orthopaedic hospital. The hope is that he will be “back to his baseline” and discharged by the end of the week. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, he is torturing my poor sister with random requests. He rang her yesterday and left a message that there was a crisis. On further investigation, it transpired that he had run out of vests.

Thursday, April 30, 2020

Herself has written a fantastic poem which is to be on the school website and I am very proud. She refuses to let me put it up here so, sorry, your loss. We have ordered pizza from a deli for lunch. Not great pizza, it transpired.

It’s possible that on a conference call with 30 people this morning when I thought my mic was muted, the group heard me say, “Morning, sweetheart, why don’t you go and have a shower?” Possibly not, must check bilaterally with a reliable source.

Herself pointed out that this will probably be the defining event of her childhood which we would never have predicted. True, for the boys as well, I assume. I asked her what the defining event would have been otherwise and she thought it was probably her three months in France. The boys asked what was a defining event and then said that they had no other defining events. Fine.

Work very frantic and then a work quiz in the evening. Very elaborate with break out rooms and 300 people on the call. Good fun but at the same time on the computer from 9 in the morning (work until 7.15, quick bite of dinner and quiz started at 7.30) until midnight when the quiz finally ended. That’s a long time.

This was the first day since the lock down started that I haven’t got out for at least half an hour. I walked up and down the road for ten minutes at lunchtime but that was it. The rule for the children is that they have to go out for half an hour and exercise and if they don’t do it during the day, they come on a walk after work with their father and me. But, there was no walk after work today. Oh well, I trust tomorrow will be better.

Friday, May 1, 2020

The Crunchy Nut Cornflake battle ground is becoming more intense.

We got a delivery of breakfast pastries and bread to celebrate the start of the bank holiday weekend. Exciting stuff. Michael announced that all his shoes are too small for him.

My father tested negative for corona virus again. He was due to be released today but they’re holding on to him until Tuesday. His mood might, conservatively, be described as not delighted. He’s much better than he was when he went in though, so that’s good.

Work was a bit better and, wonderfully, I got to take my half-day. And a bank holiday weekend. Let joy be unconfined. To celebrate we went for a walk in the hail.

There was a slightly odd man standing stock still outside our house when we emerged. He was still there when we came back from our walk. The guards were talking to him and, in fairness to them, they must have stayed a good hour. As he went off on his way, I heard them say, “Mind yourself, now.” It is not a good time to have mental health problems, I fear.

The Taoiseach announced our five step programme for escape from lock down. Very little changes until May 17 and relatively little after that (from Tuesday we’re allowed go 5kms from home for exercise rather than 2, so there’s that, I suppose). It’s going to be a long summer.

Mr. Waffle has backed up our digital archive from 2003 to date on two external back up things. I went through the photos from 2003 yesterday. Frankly, I look exhausted and my hair is nothing to write home about either. Herself was born in April and we were living in Brussels, we went to weddings in Normandy (May), Rome (June), Offaly (July), Mayo (August), Cortona (September) and Cork (ok 2004 but January 2004). No wonder we were exhausted. I do think that I could have done a bit better on the hair front though.

Mr. Waffle chose our family film for the evening. Quite exciting having our big screen out again and film a huge success. He kept it secret until the moment of screening and then revealed that it was “Catch Me If You Can” which I would really recommend for family viewing. I saw it when it came out but I’d forgotten a lot of it and it’s aged pretty well. We all enjoyed it.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

Clark’s website having utterly defeated me, I bought shoes from Marks and Spencer for Michael. I hope they will fit. Earliest delivery date is next weekend. His preferred solution to his problem is to stay in socks all week but Mr. Waffle cunningly remembered that we had bought new hiking boots for skiing just before lockdown. These are available to a deeply unenthused Michael for when he goes outdoors for exercise.

Daniel’s GAA club had a joint training session via zoom. Mr. Waffle held the phone and Daniel did the exercise. I think in a strange way they both enjoyed it, even if the greater portion of Daniel’s enjoyment came from pointing out how absolutely useless his father is at using zoom.

Mr. Waffle and I went for a longish walk into the city (fear not, within 2 kms). It was quite pleasant and sunny.

This evening’s street zoom quiz was deferred until next weekend as too many people were unavailable due to other zoom commitments. Goodness. The way we live now, apparently.

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Herself came down to breakfast and announced she was better. Since we had all forgotten that she had gone to bed early as she was ill, this announcement was received with more bafflement than it deserved. We are terrible parents.

Herself, Mr. Waffle and I went for a long cycle in the park which was pleasant in the fine weather. The place was very heaving with people. Social distancing was a little bit of a challenge. This picture is unrepresentative.

As Monday is a bank holiday, we have deferred cleaning the house to tomorrow.

We cut up Saturday’s paper and stuck up the release from quarantine timetable to the radiator.

This gave me an opportunity to inspect the magnetic poetry more closely than I have done recently. I see we are using poetry to address the injustices of the current regime. Some of it more lyrical, other pieces more direct.

Any updates from your own lock down?