I have just arrived back in Dublin airport. I am sitting on the plane waiting patiently to be disgorged. I’ve met a number of people I know on the flight because, you know, this is Ireland. Do I feel up to other people? I do not. More tomorrow.
My Travel Hell – Continued
On the plane I was in seat 27C a glamorous location towards the back of the plane. A small child was sitting directly behind me and amused himself throughout the flight by kicking the back of my seat. He was pretty excited for his trip to Eurodisney. Look, I’ve been that soldier and basically he and his brother were very good but v hyped up and I sympathised with the parents who were doing their best. But I sympathised with me too. It’s all a long way from the glory days when I travelled a lot and went – gasp – business class.
The one comfort was that the middle seat between me and the woman at the window was empty. “Doors alarmed and cross-checked”. Yes, no one else can get on, the luxury of an empty middle seat is mine, all mine.
And then, the woman in the window seat changed seat. She sat in the middle seat. Who does that?? Bitter.
A Not Unbroken Record
I was tired, I forgot to post.
A long day of travel including battles with technology and French railways wore me out. I emerged victorious, you will be pleased to hear but it took a lot out of me.
Woe, Woe, Woe
I cannot believe this, today I chipped another tooth (mercifully not visible but I can feel it). Not to worry though, I have another appointment with my interventionist dentist in December (I mean, even I would have to concede that intervention is required now). Will I ever get out of his clutches? Advice on this point would be very unwelcome so don’t do it.
I am travelling for work for the remainder of the week so think of me gamely typing out my updates for November on the app on the phone. There’s devotion for you. Let us hope travel gives me some news because, as you will see from this post, news is thin on the ground otherwise.
But, look, at least the rain has finally stopped.
Weekend Round Up – Indoor Fun
Dear God, the weather has been appalling. The only comfort (she said piously) is that my siblings are on holidays (separately) in warm places and there is nothing better than being away and hearing that the weather is bad at home.
We have had biblical quantities of rain. I went to the National Gallery and contemplated this picture for a bit. I have become obsessed with rugs recently and the rug is a big feature here.
Also I enjoy that this picture which hangs nearby features on the wall in the other painting, if you see what I mean.
I drove Michael (he drove there for practice – still has to pass his test and still needs a qualified driver to accompany him anywhere, thanks for asking) to his rehearsals for a college play and called in on a friend of mine on the way home. I spent an hour or so with him drinking tea; admiring his art collection; and returning to him a piece that he and his partner had lent me for my office but which, sadly, I no longer have a home for now that I book into a different office every day I’m in (deep sigh). He has acquired a large Patrick Hennessy portrait recently and I am consumed with envy.
Mass this morning featured a sermon about Hell. Colour me surprised. This (new to me) priest, also led the congregation in singing. This led to some conflict with the (God love him) slightly odd American who spends his Sunday morning going to various churches around town and singing (solo from the pews, if there is no choir). The priest did all the hymns but when it came to Communion he was hamstrung by his other duties and our American saw his chance and gave a surprisingly uptempo Abide with Me. It was delivered at speed (possibly to frustrate the priest who might have joined in after Communion?) so it was difficult for other congregants to join in, even had they so wished. I will be watching this space for future developments.
Mr. Waffle and I went to an Argentinian brunch spot that I was keen to try out. Not bad but not everyone wants choripan and chips and 10.30 in the morning. Maybe more of a lunch spot.
I went to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (rain finally stopped but still overcast and chilly). When I arrived they asked whether I was there for the dance performance; I was not but I joined the crowd for a look. It was some kind of community outreach combined with the CoisCéim dance company (exclusive Irish lesson for you here, coiscéim is the Irish for footstep). I mean, ok, probably great if you were related to one of the non-professional dancers involved but didn’t love it. I’m probably just a philistine (as Mr. Waffle pointed out these ancient enemies of the Israelites, were unlikely to have predicted that this is how people would refer to them 3,000 years later).
I don’t absolutely love modern art but I did like this piece (those are toys) – A Portrait of Alice Liddell, after Lewis Carroll by Vik Muniz.
And this horse was good too.
I had a restorative cup of tea and I can tell you that the IMMA cafe (heaving) has really upped its game.
I passed the bridge near the station that used to boast a number of crowns (possibly built for a visit of George IV?). These were removed post-independence but the cushions on which they sat remain.
The writing of this update was interrupted to go and watch the end of the soccer. The life of the Irish soccer fan (not me generally I am, at absolute best, a fair weather fan) is filled with grief and heartache and it’s full of arcane calculations like if A draw with B and we beat C by X goals then maybe we can qualify but generally we don’t. However, we had to beat Hungary to get out of our group (is this the World Cup qualifier again? so soon? who can say?) and we were 2-1 down for ages, then we equalised, then in the last minute of the game we pulled ahead to win 3-2. Our team is coached by an Icelandic dentist, apparently, and middle child said with great satisfaction, once the jumping around the room ceased, “Hungary were flossed!” Indeed.
How was your own weekend?
Parental Advisory
I hope that someday my three children will be great friends. At the moment each of the twins refers to the other as “the other one” which doesn’t entirely show the levels of affection I’m going for.
Over the summer, the youngest child did relatively little while the middle one got a job and went inter-railing. When challenged about his lack of activity, the youngest said “But Mum, I don’t make plans, plans happen to me”. I am not sure that this is a viable approach long term but in some ways it’s a lot less wearing on the parental nerves.
When I was 19, I went as an au pair to Naples. I set off from the south of France where we had been on a family camping trip. There were no mobile phones in 1988 and the only way my mother could find out that I had arrived was to telephone from the phone box in the camp site to the number I had given her. Unfortunately, a complete stranger who spoke no English answered the phone. This was the builder who my au pair family had doing works on the flat while they – and crucially, their au pair – were ensconced with her parents. Obviously, I couldn’t ring my parents so there we were, my mother having heart failure in the Pins Parasols campsite and me safely in a marble floored flat in the nicest part of Naples. You’ll be pleased to hear that my mother rang someone she knew in the Italian department in UCC who rang the builders who gave her the grandparents’ number who in turn gave it to my mother who finally managed to contact me. I am sure my mother had an unpleasant 24 hours (perhaps? I don’t know how long because children are heartless) but all was well. Honestly, that might as well be the motto of parenthood.
You would think that the mobile phone would make things easier but, in some ways not. Firstly, middle child missed a crucial train due to a death on the line (the first of two on the trip, grim) and had to spend an unexpected night in Paris and cancel accommodation in Barcelona. Maybe I would have been better off not knowing. Tesco mobile changed its rules on top up and the full complicated details elude me but the only way to tap up the phone was if you had an Allied Irish Bank account. My sister’s partner did and he saved our bacon by topping up for a considerable amount and refusing to be refunded which was foolish of him because I was so grateful at that moment I would have paid him anything. I spent much of my time in a state of nerves; the internet in hostels was often intermittent and I wondered why my dutiful child who is good about staying in touch hadn’t contacted me and it was never a terrible thing had happened and always that the internet didn’t work in the hostel.
The trip was lengthy including stops in Barcelona and Gothenburg which are not exactly adjacent (the itinerary was, in part, driven by where our interrailer had friends). A landslide in Italy meant that that part of the trip was curtailed, possibly not the worst outcome. The whole trip involved 11 countries and 2 days and 10 hours on trains. Glad to have done it but perhaps also glad when it was over.
