Michael had his first ever Covid test a couple of weeks ago. I can’t believe he got away with it for so long. He didn’t like it much. Given my recent travails, my sympathies are limited.
Cat, one of my commenters recommended trying rose petal jam. I was intrigued. We have a lot of roses. I tried it out. It’s a very instagrammable process but sadly I have given up instragram. I only made a small quantity. “Handmade in small batches” is very apt here I can tell you.
It’s fine but tastes more of lemon and sugar than roses. Maybe it needs to sit for a while. If you have rose petal jam recipes, I would be interested. Yes, yes, I have taken some time off work, why do you ask?
Me: I see Microsoft have suspended new business in Russia and are scaling back operations.
Mr. Waffle: Russia has performed an illegal operation and will now shut down.
I went into one of those phone fixing shop and there were two women behind the counter. I said that it was nice to see women running the shop as it’s quite unusual in these kinds of shop. They were quite pleased. One of them said that only the other day a man had come into the shop and asked them whether there were any men working there because “no offence, but women are no good with phones.” Another man came in the door, took one look at them and threw his eyes to heaven and walked out. If you don’t believe this, I can recommend this podcast.
As I write, the Italian exchange is somewhere over France. Everyone in the house, except Daniel, remains Covid free.
We took the Italian to visit the Guinness Storehouse which I have to say, I found pretty tedious but he seemed to find mildly interesting, or perhaps he was just being polite. Aside from the staff, Michael and I were the only Irish people in the building.
We also took a day trip to Howth which was pretty much perfect. The weather was beautiful and the Italian threw himself into the sea with admirable enthusiasm.
He was delighted to see two seals in the water nearby. It turns out seals in the water are not a feature of the Mediterranean. He dried himself off by lying on the beach looking like some kind of golden Greek god surrounded by pasty Irish people. Then we went for a very nice lunch on the pier and we were home before the rain started.
This morning it was lashing but I took him into town to buy presents for his mother and sisters (his father and brother got Guinness tat but he felt he needed jewellery for the women in the family). He cooked us all lunch – pasta amatriciana – which was delicious and we dropped him to the airport where chaos levels were medium/high. It took us an hour of queuing to get him to the security check where we left him to carry on alone. It was only his second flight alone ever but he seems to have managed to get off alright a mere three hours after his arrival at the airport.
He was a really nice young man and in himself no trouble – in fact, very chatty and engaging for a teenager whose first language is not English – but God, the timing turned out to be very awkward. I am exhausted. I’m still a small bit sub par from Covid and the energetic entertaining was well, energetic. I am hopeful that our French arrival, due Monday, may be put off until the end of August.
We were supposed to be going to a 50th birthday party at the weekend but we have cancelled in case we give anyone Covid and to tend to poor Daniel who is really not very well. I am off to Cork on Sunday to see my friend from America who is back for a couple of weeks and I really hope nothing intervenes to stop that. I am holding my breath here.
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.