Daniel

The South – A Trip Down Memory Lane: Holidays Week 3

10 September, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, August 16, 2021

We drove south towards Cork. We stopped off for food at lunch time in Ennis. Ennis is lovely and very lively. It benefits from being a commuter town from Limerick – you could see there was money spent in the town – and also has a good local community so doesn’t feel anything like a dormitory town. I have friends from nearby and got excellent lunch recommendations. I inadvertently skipped the queue for tables and although we apologised profusely, everyone in Ennis hates us and we may never be able to go back. I went into a local book shop and came out bearing proudly a jigsaw with a picture of Kinsale (where we were to stay for the next week). I was slightly dashed when Daniel pointed out, accurately, that it was full of sea and sky, the jigsaw makers’ kryptonite.

We drove on to Kinsale, travelling down from Limerick along the road I am extremely familiar with having spent my childhood driving up and down it with my mother: to visit my Nana, my cousins, and my mother’s butcher in Bruree ( he used to slaughter his own animals and she would buy half a cow, a sheep or a pig, bagged up and frozen, throw it in the boot and take it back to the chest freezer in Cork, it was a largely successful arrangement but sometimes his labelling was eccentric and she would thaw stewing beef only to find it was actually steak).

Covid has meant that my children are more familiar with their own country than I ever was at their age. We worked out that they have been through 30 of the 32 counties and have stayed in 16. They weren’t very interested I fear. Nor did they find my exposition on the Barrymores (inspired by passing their ancestral home in Buttevant – the Barrymores themselves were inspiration my mother always said for “The Rakes of Mallow” – though I see Wikipedia does not agree – I also told the children that Steeplechasing was invented by the young rakes in this part of the world – so many things to share!) any more fascinating. As we passed Murphy’s brewery on our way into Cork city I said, “That’s where your great-great grandfather worked and your great great uncle.” Were they interested? They were not, I fear.

We finally arrived in Kinsale where the (v expensive – though Kinsale was always expensive even when there was no money in Ireland) Airbnb was, happily, a lot more attractive than it looked online. And I didn’t feel quite so ripped off when I realised it was a family home and the family were living on their boat over the summer while we moved into their home. It reminded me vaguely of my father talking about when he was a child going on holidays to Fountainstown and staying in a house while the owner decamped to the hay shed for the summer.

The house was nice, central, with parking (always a challenge in Kinsale) and a good back garden well set up for sunshine and rain. It also had a hot tub (as my brother said, “what, did they win the lottery?”). There were a lot of affirmations stuck up everywhere. I think I would find it a bit tiring to live full time in a house that was quite so keen to tell me to live my best life.

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

Herself and myself got up with the lark and drove into Cork. We had breakfast in the Crawford gallery and then had a wander around the gallery.

We went to the Market and bought lunch ingredients and marzipan fruit. I took her into Saint Peter and Paul’s for her to admire, as we were passing. Pugin, she didn’t think much of it. My father always hated a gothic revival church and Pugin, in particular, which is unfortunate as Ireland is stacked with them. Catholic emancipation coincided with the gothic revival and the results are as you might imagine.

We spent a tricky 15 minutes trying to find where we parked in the multi-storey car park which brought our relationship to its knees following a successful morning but all was well in the end.

Herself had wanted to hire a bike and go cycling along the coast in Sligo but I was a bit nervous. Although she is 18 and cycles all over the city centre in Dublin, I always worry most about those quiet, narrow, rural roads where cars are bombing along and a cyclist is an unexpected obstacle. The compromise was that she could go out for a cycle with her uncle while they were in Cork. We dropped round and picked up a spare bike from him ( does everyone who owns one bike kind of acquire others without noticing?).

We visited my 92 year old aunt who was pleased to see us. We stopped off at my parents’ grave on the way back to Kinsale. She can find her way to it no bother which is more than I can say in relation to my grandparents’ graves.

When we got back we went for a swim in Garrettstown which was nice but chilly. It gave us a chance to fully appreciate the hot tub afterwards.

Herself and my brother went for a 30km round trip evening cycle out to the Old Head which they both seemed to really enjoy. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

My brother stayed for dinner and tested to hot tub after which he pronounced satisfactory.

There was some talk over dinner about Leaving Cert results. My brother showed us a press photo, circulated by a friend of his, of some of his school friends getting their results 30 years ago. They looked delighted if slightly oddly dressed (bat wing jumpers forever). My brother said that he had been standing beside them looking at his results as well and he was a bit disappointed (as he said himself, alright but the lower end of expectations). The photographer from the Examiner caught his eye and suggested by a wave of the arm that he move out of shot. Media manipulation, eh? Only now can it be told, the real story of LC results day.

Wednesday August 18, 2021

Like a fool I had booked myself and Mr. Waffle in for food foraging at the crack of dawn. I was up at 7.30 on holidays. The horror. The food foraging itself was quite interesting actually; I learnt a lot about seaweed. I will never again look at the foreshore in quite the same way. We had a picnic afterwards and I thought it was to be from the food we had foraged but, happily, it was not or largely not, some seaweed bread our host had baked earlier, that kind of thing.

Herself went off cycling again. On her own. I was a bit nervous but she lived to tell the tale.

My oldest friend and her husband came to visit us. She has a house in Ballydehob which is not exactly handy for Kinsale (Cork is a big county) but she was in the vicinity to check on her mother’s house. I can’t tell you how lovely it was to see her for the first time in I don’t know how long. I surprised myself by almost crying when she came in the door. You don’t really realise how much you have missed what has been taken away by Covid until you get it back, I find.

Thursday, August 19,2021

I dropped herself up to the train in Cork. We were a bit tight for time. We’d walked into Kinsale before she left to get her a sandwich for the train and, perhaps, we lingered too much. Anyhow we made it. I must say though, as we drove along MacCurtain street (the last leg of the journey), I couldn’t help saying to herself that it reminded me of all the 100s of times I had been in the exact same position with my mother, driving to the station with moments to spare. She was strangely uncomforted by this. But look, she made it. I’m not sure it could have been much tighter. When I said to her, “Aren’t you glad though that you spent that extra time in lovely Kinsale rather than sitting in the boring old station?” she just said, “No.” It looks like she is her father’s daughter. Him and his odd punctual ways.

We went sailing with the boys in Oysterhaven in the afternoon. My oldest friend (mentioned above) lived in Oysterhaven as a child and when I was young, I used to go to her house a fair bit. Given the epic distance from the city, I often stayed over. But I’d say I hadn’t been to Oysterhaven in at least 30 years. As we rounded the bends in the country roads, each corner was familiar. It was so strange.

I suppose around Kinsale and further west is the landscape of my childhood. All of these places are inextricably associated with my parents. I can’t help thinking of them when I go to places I have been with them. Particularly places we went regularly when I was young. Probably, the last time I was in Oysterhaven was with my parents (it wasn’t really somewhere you get under your own steam). It made me feel quite sad to be there again after such a long time.

As we passed my friend’s old house, I said to Mr. Waffle and the boys, “And they and the neighbours lugged down concrete to the rocks and you could swim from there, it was very exciting. The beach was a bit far away.” As we rounded the next corner and were on the beach, I was slightly mystified. I mean, it might be a long way if you had small children I suppose, but it can’t have been more than a 10 minute walk from the house. I had forgotten. I texted my friend to ask why they had bothered with the concrete place and she said: 1. It was nearer; 2. It was a swimming hole which was exciting; and 3. The beach was often covered in tar from the Betelguese disaster. I have to say until she said it, I had completely forgotten how much tar on the beach was a feature of the west Cork of my childhood. You were always trying not to get it on the soles of your feet, on your towels, on your clothes. You were constantly on the look out for it and, excitingly, on the odd rare hot days, it kind of melted. It was as much part of the landscape of my childhood beach days as the windbreak and the sandy sandwich. Thinking about it as an adult, I am appalled but it never bothered me as a child.

The sailing was grand. Like everything in Ireland this summer, it seemed to be largely staffed by teenagers (is this a “the policemen are getting younger” phenomenon?). When asked about our sailing experience, I said that I had capsized my boss more than once on an away day in the Lake District 15 years ago and gone on a Glenan’s sailing course for a week in college. The young woman smiled and said that her friend’s mother had done that back in the day. Feeling a bit elderly, I have to say. The lovely young woman who came out with us was the same age as my first born and, she was chatting away to the boys like a peer which, I suppose, she was.

Meanwhile back in Dublin, herself was having a fantastic time for herself. I thought she might be nervous in the house on her own but she definitely was not. One of her friend’s was house sitting and pet minding for the director of Dublin zoo so she spent the evening at a dinner party in the zoo which was excellent apparently.

Friday August 20, 2021

It was lashing, my God, positively biblical quantities of water.

No rain in Dublin and herself got her second vaccine dose and remained dry as well.

Mr. Waffle went around to visit a friend from London who has a house in Kinsale. The boys and I hung around the house and then headed up to Cork.

I made them go to the Crawford as well.

But we did also go to a game shop where they got more Magic cards (if you don’t know, you’re better off).

We visited my aunt who was touchingly delighted to see them. Then I deposited them with my sister’s partner to play Magic for the evening and my sister, my brother and I went out for dinner which was very nice. We lost track of time and I was a bit worried about the boys and my sister’s partner as we didn’t get back to her house until 12. I needn’t have worried, they were all still locked in mortal combat and I had to give them 15 minutes to finish off the game.

Saturday, August 21, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out for a delicious breakfast leaving the boys asleep in bed.

The weather was beautiful (biblical rainfall had moved to Dublin where my poor daughter got soaked on her bike) and we went to Kinsale beach in the afternoon which is not the most beautiful beach in this neck of the woods but is very handy and close to the town. There was a wedding party getting photos on the beach and it was lovely to see the return to normality.

We all swam – it wasn’t too cold. Then the boys and I walked up to James Fort which was lovely. It was just a delightful day.

We decided to go to the Bulman for dinner but our luck ran out. They were taking walk-ins only which is always a bad sign. When we arrived, the waitress told us that there was no way they could fit us in. Alas. Back to the supermarket. Sigh.

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went into town and I picked up a print of the Bulman though it was not a moment when I was feeling particularly kindly towards that establishment. I’ve hung it in the downstairs bathroom – compromise.

My brother joined us for lunch bringing with him a mini-fridge stocked with ingredients (yes, really). After lunch, he, Daniel and Mr. Waffle settled down to watch the match while Michael and I went for a stroll around the town. Cork were playing Limerick in the All-Ireland hurling final. As I left the house, 15 minutes in, I heard my brother say, “It’s not over yet.” I wouldn’t exactly regard that as a good sign. As Michael and I walked around the town, the pubs were heaving but not a sound came out other than the noise of the TV commentary. I regret to inform you that Cork were annihilated. My Limerick cousins will be unbearable.

Unclear how those thinking of purchasing from Lisney estate agents in Limerick would feel about the above (the all-Ireland hurling champions bring home the Liam McCarthy cup).

As it was the last night of the holidays, we had dinner out which was grand; after our experience at the Bulman, we went somewhere that took bookings.

And we finished the jigsaw.

Monday, August 23, 2021

We packed up and came home to Dublin. The roads are so good now that we flew up. We stopped off for lunch at Junction 14 (Ireland’s finest motorway stop) and were home before 3. Herself was out and about but made dinner for us that evening which was excellent. I picked up the various packages and books were waiting for us at the post office and the library. The Irish Times despite being cancelled was delivered every day we were away. And that is the end.

I did have a good time and it was lovely to be off for so long. However, I am looking forward to holidaying abroad next year. If nothing else it will be much cheaper.

How were your own summer holidays?

Into the West – Holidays Week 2

7 September, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Did you think that I wouldn’t finish my holiday post? Are you crazy?

Sunday, August 8, 2021

We drove to Sligo via the midlands. Can I tell you that there is nowhere, absolutely nowhere to get a cup of tea in Edgesworthstown (ancestral homeland of Maria Edgeworth whose family owned the local big house) on a Sunday afternoon? We were luckier in Longford and managed to get an outdoor lunch at 4 in the afternoon for which relief much thanks.

We arrived in Sligo in the evening. We had rented an Airbnb in the town just opposite the Catholic and Protestant cathedrals which were situated next door to each other on a bend in the road. It was a busy road and, as herself pointed out, with the faithful now being neither nimble nor sprightly, having to cross a busy road on a blind corner to get to church was likely to be fatal to many of the congregation.

Anyway, the house had four lovely double bedrooms. Sadly the kitchen was tiny and we could just all sit down there and there was a total of 6 knives, forks, spoons and plates. Clearly it was designed as a couples’ getaway but not, I think for a family group who were hoping to eat in occasionally. The front room was tiny also but we could all sit there, so fine. The children scattered to their bedrooms once they were clear on the wifi codes.

Here’s Michael looking like he’s 102 and has lived in the Airbnb all his life.

Monday, August 9, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out early to try to find a walking tour of the town. The tourist office was closed for Covid reasons and there didn’t seem to be enough tourists to justify any walking tours so we took ourselves off and had a good look around the town. It has a French gothic style court house which showed that the 19th century Office of Public Works architects were given their heads more than you might think.

A lot of law firms near the court house, naturally. This one is famous in certain circles.

Bram Stoker’s mother was born in Sligo.

It’s quite a big town with it’s own independent existence and clearly not largely dependent on tourism. Lots of old fashioned department stores which I very much liked. However, overall, there are two big ticket items the Sligo tourist people plug: WB Yeats and surfing. Honestly, a strong interest in one or the other, or, ideally, both, is recommended.

In the afternoon we went out to Standhill to have a swim. You are not allowed to swim in Strandhill. It’s basically reserved for surfers. Too dangerous for swimmers. Allegedly. So, onwards to Rosses Point where everybody swam except Michael. Quite chilly.

Herself got her second vaccine appointment for a couple of days before the end of the holiday. She decided that she would rather go home a bit early than try to change it for Cork. Alas. Still, great that she is to be vaccinated.

Tuesday August 10, 2021

Herself and myself drove out to Strandhill to this cafe which is much beloved by the Irish Times and surfing hipsters alike. I thought it was ok – avocado eggs end of things – but pretty pricey. Also run by very young women one of whom used a sweeping brush to clear off an outside table which I found sub-optimal. Great view though.

We took ourselves back to the town and had a wander. Lunch was a bit unsatisfactory. Outdoor dining was chilly, the food wasn’t great and the table umbrella was poorly placed.

You see here herself and Michael channelling the energy of the group.

We went to the Model which is the local gallery – lots of Jack Yeats (brother of the more famous WB), quite good but small. We dropped in to the local library. This is something I like to do everywhere I go. I would say that of all the libraries I have visited, Sligo is safest from Covid. There was no browsing at all and people had to ask at a plastic encased counter for the books they wanted. It seemed excessive.

Footsore (I developed a sore heel which was only getting worse, so much more of this anon), we returned to the house where saintly Michael made dinner, the other children disappeared to their rooms and Mr. Waffle and I began work on the obligatory holiday jigsaw.

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I had a lovely breakfast in Lyon’s, an old fashioned department store.

Later, herself and myself hit the town and bought her a range of lovely dresses in the old fashioned shops which are quite a feature of Sligo.

Also, a lot of banks and former bank buildings converted to other uses.

It reminded me of Cork in the 1980s and I quite enjoyed my trip down memory lane except my heel was sore.

We went for a family surfing lesson in Strandhill in the afternoon. Michael was the only one among us who managed to stand up on his board. I mostly felt like Wally the Walrus as I heaved myself up onto the board and failed to catch any waves. Surfing is a lot harder than it looks but we did have a good time.

We had failed to book anywhere for dinner which was a huge mistake and we ended up having the vilest pizza known to man in a bar by the river. I have to say the town was heaving for a Wednesday night in August.

I limped home afterwards, the combination of my sore heel and the surfing rendered me almost entirely immobile for the remainder of the evening.

I noticed herself was a bit freckly despite constant reapplications of suncream. “I know,” she sighed “but as [the physics genius in her class] pointed out to me, the light is still hitting my face as otherwise I would be invisible.” Good point, physics genius.

Thursday, August 12, 2021

I woke up stiff all over. Herself, Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast. We had no real plans for the day but after the previous day’s surfing, I offered to buy wetsuits for any child who wanted one. Herself and Michael expressed an interest and we went to a wetsuit superstore around the corner from the Airbnb. We got one for Michael but notwithstanding the startling array of choices there was nothing to fit herself. The owner commented gloomily that there was a world wide wet suit shortage due to the Corona virus and he couldn’t get the stock. Apparently, in the absence of anything else to do, the world is now buying wetsuits and swimming in the sea all year round.

I attempted to take my book back to the library and arrived at 4.50 to discover that it closed at 4.45. I mean, why?

Mr. Waffle and Daniel watched a soccer match and then all of us, bar Michael who resolutely refused to come, drove out to Rosses Point to lie on our backs in the sand dunes in the dark in the hopes of seeing the Perseid shower which had been promised. It is very dark in Sligo which is good, obviously, but it was also very cloudy which was less good. Still it was atmospheric lying on our backs, listening to the sea, and trying to spot the odd star through the cloud cover.

We finished the jigsaw. A triumph.

Friday, August 13, 2021

We were all rudely awoken by hammering and drilling in the house next door at 6 in the morning. I leapt from the bed (no mean feat given that I was still recovering from the surfing extravaganza) in the mistaken belief that one of the children was pounding urgently on the bedroom door. Very bravely, Mr. Waffle went next door and pointed out that it was a bit early for works. They agreed it was and said that they thought the house next door was empty. We all went back to bed.

Later, Mr. Waffle and I went back to Lyons to again sample their delightful breakfast, but, alas, it was closed due to a Covid outbreak. We went instead to a trendier though less satisfactory venue. We had a look around Mullaney’s Drapery which is bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside.

As well as meeting all your tweed needs, it boasts a travel agent and general drapery. I bought a tweed throw. I couldn’t help myself, I’ve reached the age when all my furniture is artfully draped with throws, so it won’t go to waste. Grand old chat with the salesman who told us that the Borneo teak doors dated from 1910: lovely curving art nouveau door handles remain in situ as well.

I dropped into the Yeats museum and there was this absolutely wonderful description of the cholera epidemic of 1832 in Sligo by Bram Stoker’s mother. It seems to have been terrifying. Well worth clicking and enlarging the image below for a read.

Also pretty amused by this description of the entertainment available on the Dublin stage in the late 1920s. I am more surprised than I can say, that it went over well with audiences.

That afternoon, herself and I drove to Lissadell but, alas, it was closed due to Covid. We pushed on to Mullaghmore which has a beautiful beach.

I had a lovely swim notwithstanding the slightly unusual warning notice on the approach to the beach. Sligo is full of surprises. And only 12km from Donegal. Who knew?

Mr. Waffle and I went out for our deferred 20th anniversary dinner that evening. The restaurant was nice and the food was nice. I mean, fine, nice, pleasant but not exceptional. I had the cheese board instead of dessert and I was served three pieces of small, slightly dull cheese for which we were charged â‚¬15 which struck me as excessive. In fact in general, I thought Ireland was an expensive place to holiday this year. Eating out, in particular, was expensive but the food was generally only alright. That said it was really difficulty to get in anywhere so I guess the restaurant and pub owners of Ireland know what they are doing.

Saturday August 14, 2021

We went back to Mullaney’s to get a tweed jacket for herself. Something that would last a lifetime. Sadly, they had nothing in her size. Sales have apparently been slow in the absence of Americans. However, the enterprising salesman was quick to pull out a picture of Taylor Swift in an Aran jumper as an inducement to the purchase of same (although he could not quite recall her name). We bought her an Aran jumper.

Mr. Waffle had been keen to climb up to a local landmark: an enormous neolithic tomb. I was a bit reluctant because of my sore heel but said I would give it a go. I was really glad I did. Firstly, it turns out that uphill is fine for my heel. Secondly, the views were magnificent and the tomb pretty impressive (and I speak as someone who as a child was dragged to every megalithic tomb in Munster and can identify a wedge shaped gallery grave from three fields away).

We parked in the fantastically named “Queen Maeve’s Grave Car Park”. Locally the tomb is associated with Queen Maeve. If you have been paying attention (look, I know you have), you will recall that we had been in Carlingford the previous week. This is on the Cooley peninsula where Queen Maeve undertook her famous cattle raid which is an integral part of her legend, so we were basically following her around.

Your correspondent enjoys an ancient monument:

After this early success, we went to Strandhill for lunch. Disastrous, the food was dear and mediocre and the weather was miserable for outdoor dining. We were not living the dream.

We hopped into the car and headed on to Galway which turned out to be a two hour drive away. Who knew that Sligo was so far from everywhere else? I would definitely go back though, it’s a very beautiful part of the world and quite underrated, I think.

Still glad to get to our hotel in Galway where we had booked a swim in the pool and then had the unmitigated thrill of indoor dining for the five of us for the first time on the holidays. The rules are elaborate but here’s a summary: fully vaccinated adults can eat indoors on production of a cert; children under 18 can eat indoors whether vaccinated or not; anyone staying in a hotel regardless of age or vaccination status can eat indoors. A complex compromise but a very welcome one as it was lashing and we did not fancy going around trying to find an outdoor dining venue.

Sunday August 15, 2021

Herself had a friend who was in Galway so she went off with him and his Galway friends for the day. Mr. Waffle, the boys and I wandered the quaint streets of the old town. Galway is lovely and very atmospheric but, I’ve noticed this before, there’s relatively little to do in the town unless you want to meet friends in a pub and listen to traditional music. We went to Spanish Arch, Galway’s most famous landmark, and the boys said, “Is this it?” This is fair, it’s a bit underwhelming. Galway is much more about strolling around and enjoying the general ambience but that is useless if you’re a 15 year old boy. On the plus side, as herself was off with friends, we were able to go indoors to Milano’s for lunch which the boys loved.

I booked us in to an escape room for the afternoon. It was a bit hard for us – generally we do reasonably well but we were pretty stumped and had to ask for a number of clues and I found it a bit dull as we waited around for enlightenment. On the plus side, we got good value for our money, as we stayed for ages and herself was pleased as she identified herself as the secret sauce which had helped us to triumph in the past.

We took ourselves back to the hotel for a swim and dinner mentally exhausted.

Stay tuned for the next installment where we go South.

On Holidays – Week 1

14 August, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

Monday, August 2, 2021 – Bank Holiday

The plumber returned. He’s keen to finish at least. We drove up to Carlingford, Co. Louth for the first leg of our holidays. It’s about 90 minutes from Dublin so a short drive. We stayed in the delightful, though oddly named, Ghan House. Recommended.

We had lunch in the town which is right beside the hotel. Inspired by friends, I had booked us in for activities. After lunch we went zip lining. We all quite enjoyed it. The children are experts and I found myself reasonably alright except for the time I got stuck in the middle of the zip line like Boris Johnson at the London Olympics.

Our hotel restaurant, sadly, did not open for dinner on Mondays. We went into the town in hunt of food. It was not very successful. We were briefly seated outdoors at a pizza joint but no sooner had we got our legs under the (socially distanced, no you can’t move the tables together even if you are from the same household) tables than the waitress arrived out and said, “We’re not serving anymore, the kitchen is closed.” This was 8 in the evening but there you are. Mr. Waffle said that it was like the staff were from Communist Eastern Europe and were having no truck with the idle ways of the West.

We had a slightly difficult combination in that the boys and Mr. Waffle and I could eat indoors but herself as an only partially vaccinated over 18 had to be accommodated outdoors. Eventually, a nice woman took our number and our order and said she would call us when an outdoor table came free. We mooched around the (v pretty) town a bit.

We admired King John’s castle. Imposing but, you know, we were a bit hungry.

Herself suggested we go back to the hotel bar. There were no staff in but they had an honour system and herself went behind the bar with her hand sanitiser and got us all drinks.

A great time was had by all but we were nonetheless, pretty pleased to get a call about 9.15 that our table was ready.

Carlingford isn’t perhaps the best spot for vegetarian options. Herself said that, having missed breakfast in the haste of our departure, she had had vegetable soup for every meal. Alas.

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

We were up with the lark to go off canoeing. I may have overdone the whole activity thing. Mr. Waffle and I had only a very brief opportunity to admire the view from what I think was the best room in the house.

We trekked off to the adventure centre and down to the water where we all got into wetsuits. Herself said that Michael and I looked like “Fattypuffs and Thinifers“. Neither of us was delighted. However, the actual outing was fun and our guide took us to a cave and had us stand under a mountain stream which, due solely to his remarkable enthusiasm levels, we were all clamouring to try.

After our adventure, we drove out of town to this, pricey enough but pleasant, garden centre/shop/cafe. It was in the middle of nowhere and proof, as herself pointed out while we stood in the queue for food, that if you build it they will come.

We had a quiet afternoon, exhausted from our activities. I thought I had bruised my sides but it turned out to be muscles I never knew existed squealing in agony following the unexpected activity. I went into town and visited the craft shops. I love a craft shop but I am trying to stop buying things as my parents’ house is full of things that I will be finding a home for and where on earth will I put everything.

We had booked dinner in the hotel and, cunningly, reckoning that there would be nothing Michael would eat, when booking I had asked could they make pasta and pesto for him. It was not a success, he was offended and grumpy and as herself has observed, this family runs at the rate of the grumpiest member. So even though the other two ordered away and the food was good, Michael’s outrage hovered over the meal like a gloomy rain cloud taking from the general bonhomie of the party. It was the first time we had eaten indoors (confusingly, herself can eat indoors if she is a resident in a hotel) and the portents were good but, alas, it was not a success.

Wednesday August 4, 2021

The activities continued unabated. We went to an escape room which was broadly enjoyable. In the course of our efforts to escape the young man who ran the centre had to give us hints via typed messages on a monitor. At one point one of the devices we needed was out of battery and I held it up to the camera gesturing that it was broken in the belief that he could see but not hear us. The monitor popped into life saying, “I can hear youse, ha, ha, ha”. This may have been moment of the match for me.

After the escape room triumph we went to the local library (small but with a very good selection of books), an antique/bric-Ã -brac place (where I restrained myself from purchase with difficulty mostly on the basis that anything I wanted to buy was almost certainly available in my parents’ house somewhere for free) and more craft shops. I was fascinated by this item in the antique place. What, we ask ourselves, was its journey from Milton Keynes to Carlingford?

I enjoyed seeing a large dog make off with a slipper from a shoe shop with his owner in hot pursuit shouting angrily. The owner went back to the shoe shop and insisted on paying for the slippers although the woman in the shop was equally insistent she should not: it is a small town and they clearly knew each other. In fairness to the dog, I can see why it was hard for him to resist galloping off with this item clutched firmly in its jaw.

We had lunch at a food truck (in Carlingford, yes, very nice too, I have to say although it’s far from breakfast burritos we were reared etc.). I thought of visiting Dundalk or Drogheda but my friend from Dundalk pulled no punches in telling me that they were “fairly basic towns” with only St. Oliver Plunkett’s head to recommend them. The children balked at the saint’s head so, leaving that treat for another day, we headed home.

When we got home, the plumbers were still there, there was grit everywhere and herself announced bitterly that there was an (as yet unused) toilet in her bedroom. As I pointed out to her, if we had visited St. Oliver Plunkett’s head, it might all have been sorted before we got home. She was uncomforted.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

I was up at 7 as the plumber was due at 7.30. You will recall that the work was to be finished last Friday. Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast leaving the children in bed. We ran into the postman who said that he had tried to deliver a parcel to us yesterday. We knew because we got the notice to collect it from the depot. “Never mind that,” said he, “I’ll drop it into you about 10 in the morning.” In fairness what a service.

We had invited friends of ours (a family of six who were over from the Netherlands – she’s Irish, he’s Dutch and the children are a mix but all v tall) to lunch. When the invitation was issued, we did not expect that the house would still be full of workmen who from time to time, as the mood suited them would turn off the water. We made a beautiful plum tart from the plums in the front garden. It looked amazing but, oh dear, tasted unbearably bitter. Alas.

Notwithstanding the logistical challenges, it was lovely to see our friends. The children all get on and we were all invited to our friend’s 50th birthday in the Hague in October. Very exciting. She made me laugh by telling me about her brother getting a new sign for his pub. The sign writer asked him, “Where do you want the apostrophes?” As though they were a decorative feature.

The plumber left without installing the sink which, for mysterious reasons, is not available until Monday week. Look we have a toilet and a shower. It’s a start.

Friday, August 6, 2021

A plumber free morning. Mr. Waffle took Daniel to a dentist’s appointment at 9.30 which I appear to have made in a moment of insanity. I believe my thinking was, let’s get it out of the way early. I dragged myself out of bed at 9.30 so that I would be up to let the postman in. Inevitably the doorbell rang at 9.35 while I was in the shower. I scooted down swathed in towels to pick up the parcel. The postman was unfazed. I assume he is well used to seeing people in various states of undress.

I made more jam. I am sick of jam. And it now appears that apple season has started.

We were supposed to go on a sailing trip around Dublin Bay in the afternoon. “No experience needed just buckets of enthusiasm,” said the website. I had definitely overdone the activity drive and no one, least of all myself, was in a position to display anything like buckets of enthusiasm so I was delighted when they rang up to cancel because of the weather.

A nice lady who lived on the road died. She was a great gardener and had given everyone cuttings over the years. A saintly neighbour offered to make up a bouquet for her from flowers from our gardens. Everyone was keen and she was immediately inundated with messages from people on their holidays saying, “Take stuff from my garden.” She did an amazing job and made up two big bouquets using all the flowers which seems to have been a big hit with the dead woman’s family.

One of the other neighbours said, “We must get you on to the flower arranging team for the church.” No good deed goes unpunished but I think she will probably be alright as she is, I believe, Protestant and it’s the local Catholic church for which her expertise is being sought. I’ll leave them to figure that one out themselves.

Saturday, August 7, 2021

I did almost nothing, exhausted by my week of exertions. My brother was supposed to be in Dublin for lunch but only made it about 6 which is late, even by his notoriously lax standards. A bale of hay fell on the motorway and chaos ensued leading to hours of delay. Really. He went straight out to see friends but is supposed to be spending the night here. We await developments.

As I was making more wretched jam in the afternoon I listened to an excellent podcast about the two girls who nearly drowned on paddle boards last summer. Sounds a bit niche but the nation, including me was rivetted by this (ultimately) good news story at the time. It seemed so improbable that they should have been rescued and, listening to the story, I am even more surprised that they made it. The families involved sound like lovely, lovely people and the whole thing is well worth a listen.

On Sunday, we are off to Sligo for week 2 of our holidays and then Kinsale for week 3. I will update you on our return. I am sure that you are on the edge of your seat out there.

End of Term at Last

7 August, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Work

Monday, July 26, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I are both facing into slightly grisly weeks at work on the basis that we are going on holidays on Friday never to return. Alas, that is not true but I am off for 3 and a bit weeks and Mr. Waffle is off until September. Rejoice. Just the week of doom to get through first.

The plumber arrives with his son to do up the bathroom. This was originally scheduled for last October but Covid did not permit. The plumber is keen as mustard. He arrives at 7.30 and says that he will be finished by Friday. He proceeds to cut off the water for the day. Herself is not delighted but at least the boys are safely in Cork.

Indoor dining can resume for the lucky vaccinated.

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Herself enjoys another day at home with the plumber and his son and no water.

When we returned home that evening she told us that she had overheard the plumber on the phone with a client: “Look,” said he, “I’ve tried to explain to you and I’ve explained to your husband; to put it in terms you can understand, your heating system is fucked.” On seeing my precious firstborn, he said, “Sorry, I forgot you were there.” Indeed.

I had my first indoor dining experience with my Covid cert at lunch time. It was grand. Worked fine.

Daniel and Michael returned to the fold. They were not delighted by the upstairs bathroom situation but who would be? They had an excellent time in Cork with absolutely beautiful weather.

Wednesday, July 28, 2021 – Anniversary

This was our 20th wedding anniversary. “What is it for 20th?” Mr. Waffle asked. “Porcelain,” I said sapiently. Yes, indeed, the plumbers were still in situ. Plumber pÃ¨re announced to us at 7.30 in the morning that they would not be finishing until the following week. Unsurprising but unwelcome intelligence. Mr. Waffle and myself went down the road for an early restorative breakfast to recover.

Meanwhile, as you will recall, it is jam season. There is a bumper crop of plums from the tree this year and I constantly have some kind of jam process on the go. Daniel and herself helped me stone plums on separate nights. “It’s like that Seamus Heaney poem,” I said. Michael, however, remained unwilling to assist even when I made him read out the poem aloud. Alas.

I didn’t get home from work until 9, sadly, and no sooner was I in the door than poor Mr. Waffle was called to a work emergency. We’ve had better anniversaries. We can celebrate on holidays.

I rounded off the evening by driving out to a distant suburb to pick up herself from a friend’s house.

Thursday, July 29, 2021

The plumbers have installed a temporary shower in the utility room (it’s bad but not quite as bad as it sounds). The space is tiny, like a shower on the ferry. Better than nothing.

Herself had some friends around to the back garden. I sent them all home with a jar of jam.

Mr. Waffle and Daniel went to the Aviva: more live sports, where will it all end. The home team triumphed against, I want to say, a team from Luxembourg?

As we contemplated the ongoing works in the house, herself asked, “When we are looking after the house, do you think we are working with it or against it?” I said I thought not, remembering my father who always said, “Entropy is against you.” Perhaps it was just a low moment.

The plumbers said they would not be coming the following day but the tilers were coming on Saturday. As the plumber said, “They don’t have great English but they’re good tilers.” “Where are they from?” we asked. “Romania maybe,” he offered.

Friday, July 30, 2021

A plumber free day. And my last day in the office before 3 and a bit weeks of holidays. Rejoice. I got a work call in the afternoon (when I was off) which was not a great sign but never mind. I took herself off to get her first vaccination. Rejoice, rejoice.

Saturday, July 31, 2021

We had a very normal morning in pre-Covid terms. Herself joined her parents for breakfast out. Mr. Waffle and I cycled into town to pick up a light fitting for the bathroom. He went home then and I went on to see the Martin Parr exhibition in Temple Bar which is excellent. So good that I bought the exhibition book even though it has an introduction by Fintan O’Toole (Ireland’s foremost public intellectual) whom I find very trying. I took in the National Library photography exhibition as well. I went to the Temple Bar market and bought some bread for lunch. I went to the shops and bought more jam jars (planned) and a dress (more spontaneous). It was the most normal morning I have had in ages and I am so grateful to the vaccine for giving us our lives back.

It was a longer morning than usual though as the tilers arrived at 7.30 and I was keen enough to get out from under their feet. They’re from Transylvania actually, thanks for asking.

Mr. Waffle discovered as he was going about the monthly neighbourhood clean up that our misfortunate next door neighbours have got Covid. Only their 18 year old was not fully vaccinated but they all got positive tests and are dutifully self-isolating at home. It was particularly grim as they were supposed to be in Schull on their holidays this week.

I had been notified that a book I wanted had arrived at the library. Myself and Dan cycled up at speed, anxious to get there before it closed at 4. We had, however, forgotten that on bank holiday weekends, the library is closed on Saturday. I love my library and it provides an amazing service but this drives me crazy and it catches me every time.

I took the boys up the road for a haircut. As we were crossing the road, I met the waitress from the cafe at the top of the road whose daughter is in the boys’ school. She said how big the boys were and that she hadn’t seen us in ages. I pointed out that the cafe was closed and wondered were they re-opening now. Apparently not, after seeing the 96 pages of regulations, the owner has decided that they will remain closed to indoor dining for now. Understandable – particularly when they have a well-established bakery. It seems pretty difficult for cafes and restaurants – I do feel for them.

Sunday, August 1, 2021

At mass, the leaflet said that one of the saints whose feast occurs this week was Saint Eusebuis of Vercelli. It was such an odd name that I looked him up. Quite dull but his wikipedia entry refers to St. Lucifer of Cagliari. I kid you not. He’s worth a look even on the basis that wikipedia feels no need to comment on his unusual name.

I went into the Hugh Lane gallery on my own in the afternoon (my family having declined this offered treat) and had a sustaining tea and a bun in Bewley’s afterwards. How much am I enjoying having my life back? Very much indeed, thank you.

The Last Lap

1 August, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Family, Ireland, Michael, Princess, Siblings, Travel, Work

Monday, July 19, 2021

Herself expressed an interest in playing tennis and the three children trotted out together. They seem to have had a reasonable time. I was delighted as an ongoing source of guilt this summer is how little I have organised for them, particularly the boys.

Herself was able to register for her vaccine. It seems to be moving along very speedily now.

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Michael and I dined alone as Daniel and his father were at a GAA match and herself was out cycling.

Herself went for a cycle in the park with her (male) friend and she was exhausted when she got home having cycled at speed for hours. Her friend was trying to slow down but compared to her female friends and her mother, he was pretty speedy. Good for her, doubtless.

Wednesday, July 21, 2021 – Belgian National Day

The boys headed off to their aunt and uncle in Cork again and I was thrilled as I felt that it would give them a change of scene and the weather was terrific.

We moved the kitchen table outside. Satisfactory. The tablecloth is one I brought up from Cork. I remember buying it with my mother in Venice in the 1980s. It hasn’t seen much action since then as it’s a bit small for larger groups. It could do with an iron as well but it was too hot to contemplate approaching an iron.

The boys made it to Cork safely.

Thursday, July 22, 2021

The boys went to west Cork with their aunt and tried out the Dursey island cable car. The consensus was that it was not as exciting as it looks. They had glorious weather for it though.

Meanwhile, in Dublin, we baked in the heat. Jam season continued. From farm (i.e. front garden):

To fork:

Friday, July 23, 2021

In anticipation of the (much deferred) arrival of the plumbers on Monday, Mr. Waffle decamped from the utility room where he has been based since March of last year and took the last of his stuff back to the office. The end of an era.

Herself got her vaccine appointment for the next week (imagine) and we went out for an outdoor lunch together. Still very warm.

The boys were off in a hotel in Bantry with their aunt enjoying the luxury of indoor dining.

My lily has outdone itself this year. It needed a bit of extra support so I took a length of bamboo from the forest at the end of the neighbours’ garden adjoining ours. Theft or thinning of bamboo that’s probably good for it? My family have one view, I have another. Your thoughts would be welcome provided they chime with mine.

Saturday, July 24, 2021

Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast to a local cafe for the first time in ages. We got more fun from this bag than you might expect. What order are the languages listed in? The only clue I will give you is that a bureaucratic mind was involved in this process. Answer below.*

We got a call from herself who had declined to come with us. “There’s someone in the house,” she whispered into the phone. “There isn’t, I’m sure,” said Mr. Waffle, “if there were, the cat would be going crazy.” “She is going crazy,” hissed herself. I zoomed home. There was not, in fact someone in the house. We’d left the back door open and the noise of the window cleaner working next door had floated upstairs and unnerved her (he came and did our windows next which was handy). The cat was indeed going crazy because she had managed to get herself in through a tiny hole in the cupboard under the stairs and couldn’t get back out again. What attracted her there? More mice or worse? Or just general perverseness? Mr. Waffle had to unscrew a wooden panel to let her out again. Idiot cat.

I went into town and bought a variety of exciting homewares. Even though I really shouldn’t. I mean, where is all the stuff from my parents’ house going to go?

Mr Waffle and I took the Dart out to Booterstown. A young man on the platform was telling all his friends how he had recovered from Covid. He ate a raw onion the other night and couldn’t taste anything. It seems, at best, unfortunate but he was delighted with himself.

We visited Mr. Waffle’s mother and then cycled on to Dalkey which was short of tea shops but we managed (middle aged problems if ever I saw them). I thought Bullock Harbour might work for a swim but it was more for jumping in and I wasn’t in a jumping in kind of mood so we went to Sandycove. The water was lovely but it was crowded. A young man was on a paddle board with a very small baby who was howling the place down. I offered to assist but he said her mother was coming. She was. Tense times in that relationship though as the baby howled the place down and the mother picked her way out among the sharp stones. Lads, I do not miss the challenges of minding small children.

While Mr. Waffle and I were out disporting ourselves, herself continued to work on her summer translation job – she’s translating something for a friend of Mr. Waffle’s and is near the end and the payout of filthy lucre – and the boys were off on Bere Island. My sister’s partner’s parents have a house there and they kindly invited the boys. It was so warm even Michael swam.

Sunday, July 25, 2021

This is the anniversary of my lovely Nana’s death. At mass the priest told us it was grandparents’ day. Who knew? I said a prayer for her although I doubt she needed it having been very saintly. I often think how strange it was that she would have worn long Edwardian skirts (she was born in 1897). I mean I know this seems an odd thing to obsess about but I just wonder what it was like to wear those clothes, they seem so remote from us now. She died in 1984 when I was 15 and I never really asked her about when she was young or the characters from the War of Independence (about whom she had views I understand from my mother – my grandmother got a medal and an army pension but I think she was always a bit ambivalent about some of the activities, she took the pension but applied it to charitable causes). I was an age, when she died, when she was a beloved character in my story but, for me, without any back story of her own. I tried to avoid something similar happening with my children and their Cork grandfather but this led to baffling sessions where I forced my unwilling children to ask my father questions about his youth and he said, “I don’t remember” and returned promptly to his newspaper. Perhaps these interests only come with age.

In the afternoon I took myself off alone to go for a swim as herself was still translating and Mr. Waffle didn’t fancy it. I left my phone behind in case it was nicked. Things I use my phone for as well as, obviously, phoning and texting: taking photos; listening to podcasts; internet browsing including checking the Dart timetable; telling the time (my watch is in for rather expensive repairs); navigating (google maps); paying for stuff (Apple pay, everyone has digital payments now, even the man selling ice cream from a van at the beach). I was surprised at how unnerved I was heading out without it. I mean I only got a smart phone for the first time in 2011, I have lived 80% of my life without one. I felt a bit of an idiot for being so dependent. You will be delighted to hear that I managed to get myself out for the afternoon without my phone and inspected the newly pedestrianised streets of Dun Laoghaire (grand, good even) and have a swim in Seapoint (heaving) and cycle without getting lost. No photos though.

Poor Mr. Waffle had a work call at 9 in the evening. But otherwise the evening was uneventful as we prepared ourselves mentally for our last week at work before the holidays and the arrival of the plumber and his accolytes at 7.30 in the morning. They were to begin the much deferred bathroom revamp (deferred from last October but in a very real way deferred from 2013 when we moved in and couldn’t afford to do it up – we’ve been living with the previous owners tiles for a long time). I feel a whole new post will be required to cover the bathroom excitement. Hold on to your hats out there.

*It’s alphabetical by language in the language. So Spanish is ES – looks out of order right? ES is the ISO code for Spanish but, obviously, Castellano is the Spanish for Spanish so it appears not after Danish as you would expect but after Bulgarian. The same is true for Finnish which reflects in its position the fact that Suomi is the Finnish for Finnish. Hours of harmless entertainment for all the family. I’m not sure I can stop at any time any more which is its own concern to be honest.

Heatwave!

18 July, 2021
Posted in: Boys, Cork, Daniel, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Work

Monday, July 12, 2021

Daniel came back from basketball camp crippled after a day of intensive exercise. I saw him limping down the stairs and he said, “This is like ‘The Lord of the Rings’. It’s going to be a very lengthy journey.” Poor child. And he had to cycle to and from the venue. He was exhausted.

It was peak marching season in the North. At this time of year, I always feel sorry for the Northern Ireland tourist board.

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

My covid vaccination cert arrived by email. I am now free to travel all around the EU. The thrill. For the moment, I will, alas, be staying at home. Herself was supposed to be going to London next week and after much grief and heartache we decided to cancel the flight. Poor miss.

Apparently indoor dining is to be allowed for the vaccinated and their children under 18 from July 26. Does this mean we leave our 18 year old out on the terrace when we go for meals on our family holiday in August?

Herself returned from Cork in great form having had a restorative couple of days. She and my brother get on like a house on fire. She is trying to drag him into the 21st century. He’s a work in progress.

Wednesday, July 14, 2021

Bastille Day, my father always liked to celebrate this and was almost always in France to do so. I thought fond thoughts of him.

Daniel arrived home from basketball camp burnt to a cinder (it was supposed to be indoors but they went outside for lunch and he had no sunscreen). I’m beginning to wonder whether he will make it out of there alive.

Herself bought some of her course books and they arrived and she is delighted with herself. I’d say she’ll enjoy college.

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Daniel and Mr. Waffle went to the Aviva stadium along with 6,000 other people. It was the biggest sporting outing in a while. They saw local heroes Bohemians demolish some club from Iceland. Great rejoicing all round.

Friday, July 16, 2021

It was very warm indeed. In a welcome return to normality, the Princess and I had lunch outside on a terrace. We both enjoyed it very much.

In what was definitely not normal, but pleasant all the same, Daniel and I prepped for a barbecue dinner. He and I have started working together on Friday night dinner and we’re quite enjoying the challenge of our family of tricky eaters.

Saturday, July 17, 2021

I had breakfast at the end of the garden sitting on our fancy new wooden bench. It was extraordinarily warm. I was sheltered by the tall bamboo growing between our garden and next door. Our older neighbours are a bit deaf. When they sit out, they have a penchant for jazz classics which they play at what I am sure they think is a perfectly acceptable volume. It is actually pretty loud. Mr. Waffle has taken to referring to the end of the garden as the “Bamboo lounge”. It’s pleasant; the green shade, the gliding bench and the jazz classics in the background. Glad I don’t mind jazz though.

The Irish Times was full of interest featuring the sale of the cousins’ house in the property bit and information on a new gardening programme on the back page. Three gardeners will come and judge your garden (one of 18) and presumably some prize will be given to the best overall garden. I was a bit surprised to see that one of the three judges is next door’s gardener who has done a bit of work for us as well. We rang him recently to come and tidy up the garden but he said the earliest he can come is October. No wonder when he is off filming. I can attest that he is a good gardener.

That evening for cinema night we enjoyed the first fruits of Ireland joining the Francophonie. You think I am joking but I assure you, I am not. The upshot of this was I got free access to a French film for Bastille Day (long story) and I put it up on the big screen for our family viewing. Very enjoyable, actually: I can recommend “Le Sens de la FÃªte” which is funny and suitable for family viewing. Not always a given with our film night choices.

Sunday July 18, 2021

I think our parish priest might be on his summer holidays. We had a substitute who gave an excellent sermon. Did you know that the etymology of the English word “nous” is from the Greek for mind, intelligence? That was only the beginning. The role of St Jerome in translating repent, Laudato Si’ and climate change, the bishop’s crozier; it was all happening. On the way home, Michael said, “Are we in trouble when the church is more concerned about climate change than our Governments?” Maybe so, maybe so.

Having spent all of the previous day commuting between the hammock and the bamboo lounge, I decided I would go out and have a swim. No one was interested in coming with me so I went on my own and it was quite satisfactory. The suburban beaches were full to the brim but the water was the warmest I have ever experienced in Ireland (the sunshine, the quantity of infant wee, sewage in Dublin bay, a combination of these?), I didn’t even have to pause for a moment on heading in to the water.

Then when I got home, I had some work to do which had been hanging over me all weekend. I spent a good hour at it but it’s going to need more than that. Sigh. I have decide to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and finish it off in the office.

Possibly time for bed. I hope the weather is pleasant where you are.