Herself: Can I see your degrees?
Me: Mmm, yes, they’re in a cardboard tube on the bookshelf.
Her: A lot of Latin there.
Me: Mmm, my parchment has Irish, I think, look.
[Pause]
Her: They’ve spelt “Feabhra” [the Irish for February] wrong.
Me: Yes, I see that, now.
Her: They’ve also spelt your name in Irish incorrectly.
Me: Yes, you’re right, I never noticed that before.
Her: Known for accuracy, these lawyers?
Me: You’re ruining it for me.
Science Teacher
Herself is at war with her science teacher over science. She practically came to blows with her when the teacher (yes, the teacher) showed a video which proved that the moon landings were faked. She also made strenuous arguments to convince the teacher about Galileo’s Leaning Tower of Pisa experiment. To no avail, I now see from reading Wikipedia that in this matter the teacher believes in Aristotle’s theory. Apparently this teacher only teaches first years. I am not sure why, so that all knowledge of scientific theory that they might have brought from primary school can be wiped from students’ brains before they begin further scientific study?
She is retiring at the end of the year; perhaps this is for the best.
Your Point?
A number of people sent me a link to this Kevin Barry piece in Granta about Cork.
It starts out as follows:
If cities are sexed, as Jan Morris believes, then Cork is a male place. Personified further, I would cast him as low-sized, disputatious and stoutly built, a hard-to-knock-over type. He has a haughty demeanour that’s perhaps not entirely earned but he can also, in a kinder light, seem princely. He is certainly melancholic. He is given to surreal flights and to an antic humour and he is blessed with pleasingly musical speech patterns. He is careful with money. He is in most leanings a liberal. He is fairly cool, usually quite relaxed, and head over heels in love with himself.
At the very least, the last of this is true: the city of Cork is besotted with itself, and it talks of little else.
It is a truly brilliant article; especially since the author is only a blow-in.
One of These Excuses is not like the Others
It was my oldest friend’s birthday on April 20. We thought we might go to lunch on a Saturday to catch up.
From: Me
To: Her
Subject: Happy birthday to youAlas, I cannot go to lunch on Saturday – I am out on Sunday afternoon and I can’t go out to lunch on Saturday as well. Planning ahead but how about Saturday, May 7?
From: Her
To: Me
Subject: RE: Happy birthday to youThat’s too bad about Saturday but it was short notice so I knew it was a long shot. As regards 7 May, I will possibly have a Kiwi friend visiting that weekend, I don’t know yet for sure but I will keep you posted.
From: Me
To: Her
Subject: RE: Happy birthday to youWill we pencil in May 14 – I know it’s a long way out but still…
From: Her
To: Me
Subject: RE: Happy birthday to you14 May I am in Ulaan Baator. Yes, really.
I think she has won that email exchange with her fermented mare’s milk. If you care, the 21st isn’t a runner because my niece is making her first communion so we have settled on May 28.
13
The Princess is 13 today. Â Her aunt gave her clothes from India. Â I took a picture to send to my sister (the donor). “Call it ‘cultural appropriation’,” suggested herself.
Incidentally, you might note the complete inability of anyone who lives in this house to shut the door.
Her main celebration is on Saturday but tonight she had a small cake. Â Behold the birthday cake of a child with two working parents:
Fuller post to follow telling you all about my 13 year old.
She Suffers or Pedants of the World Unite, You Have Nothing to Lose but Misplaced Apostrophes
Email correspondence:
From: Herself
To: Me
Subject: Bishops
I am not sure whether the resolution on the picture allows you to read the caption which is “Pope Francis: Will reflect on much of what his bishops’ have had to say.”