Archives for July 2012

More Of It

27 July, 2012
Posted in: Ireland

I am investigating getting life insurance. Honestly, being an adult, it’s one tedious thing after another. I met an adviser and there was a very detailed questionnaire which he talked me through. One of the questions was “How many units of alcohol do you usually drink per week?” I don’t really drink at all, so I said, “None.” “We’d better put one,” he said, “otherwise they’ll think you’re an alcoholic who has been forced to give it up and that might cause a problem.”

There’s been much talk recently about this country’s unhappy relationship with alcohol and here’s more evidence of it, if this were needed.

Endless Summer

28 July, 2012
Posted in: Boys, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Travel

As you read this, if all goes according to plan, I will be on the ferry to France with my loving family.

A full debrief will follow after our return in mid-August. In the interim, I plan to schedule posts on our holiday in Garryvoe last week. With photos. Go on, you can’t wait. More tomorrow.

In other news today is the 11th anniversary of the day the wonderful Mr. Waffle and I got married. We will be celebrating with our family in the self-catering cafeteria on board the ferry before retiring to separate cabins with a child and a half each in tow. When I said, hopefully, to the children that the 28th was Mummy and Daddy’s wedding anniversary and that they should be nice to us, Michael replied, “Do I have to?” I sometimes think that family life isn’t for romantics.

Washout

29 July, 2012
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Princess, Siblings, Travel

Sunday, July 15

We arrived in Cork to lashing rain. I forced my family and my brother and sister down to the park to see the World Street Performing championships. It was damp. I was wearing sandals and only successfully got the mud out of my feet by mid-week. The children whined. It was an inauspicious beginning. I was, however, proved right because, although the street performers did not hold the children’s attention there were ancillary excitements.
Like this:

And a zip line over the pond:

Say what you like about the rain, it makes for short queues. Also, the sun shone, very briefly. After our mud stop in Cork we said goodbye to the grandparents and drove to Garryvoe in East Cork. My saintly friends M and R have a house there and we have stayed there many times. It’s a lovely house, very close to the beach and a relatively easy drive into Cork city. Even though the weather was not terrific, the children were very pleased to see the beach.

It was only when we got to Garryvoe that we discovered that the purchase of an e-reader for her had made little difference to the Princess’s packing habits:

Garryvoe – Part 1

30 July, 2012
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Travel

Monday, July 16

This was to be a sort of 1950s holiday with Mr. Waffle back in Dublin working and me at a seaside resort with the children, so, on Monday, we dropped Mr. Waffle off to get the train back to Dublin. Before he left, he put on a first wash and the washing machine refused to work. Ominous. Fortunately, M and R had chosen to extend the warranty on their machine (a decision which I applaud) and Mafew promised that someone would come on Monday. “No, not today,” he clarified. Alas.

On the plus side, there was Bible Camp. We have been to this before – it’s evangelisation through fun and the boys love it. Herself was always a bit dubious and this year put her foot down and refused to join in the communal fun. There was an accordion and this may have been the last straw for her.

In the afternoon, we were in Cork (with our washing, obviously) and the weather was absolutely beautiful. My brother, who can be saintly when the mood takes him, played rugby with the boys in my parents’ back garden while I had a nice cup of tea with my mother and herself continued operation read for Ireland.

(Note washing)

Back in Garryvoe we ran into the neighbours. The father of the family shares a name with my brother-in-law but looks quite different from him. Undeterred by this, Daniel commented, “I am looking forward to seeing my cousin later.” Children’s minds work in mysterious ways.

Tuesday, July 17

We went to the beach first thing in the morning. It was cold but great fun. I think my bones actually shrank a little as I waded into the water.

We then took ourselves to Bible camp. Herself stayed resolutely in the car reading her book for the hour’s activities but I sat on a bench in alternately freezing wind and drizzle and watched the boys playing while reading the paper. I was thus able to prove that it is possible to get burnt in cloudy weather. Oh the pain.

My sister and a friend came to visit us that evening briefly distracting Michael from his anguish that he had pulled a heavy kitchen chair over on his foot. When they left, about 10.30, I went to bed. Michael was still awake whimpering that his foot was sore. At 11.30 he started bawling. His foot was sore. Could he conceivably have broken it? He cried loudly and pathetically until 1.30 am when I was getting desperate. Of course, I hadn’t so much as a bottle of calpol on me. I found myself wondering would I get them all out of bed and drive to A&E in Cork or, at least, to an all night pharmacy in Middleton. He fell asleep, I scooted to my own bed. At 2.30, Daniel came in and woke me up. “Michael’s having a tough time,” he said, hopped into my bed and was instantly asleep. Poor Michael was indeed crying again, “The pain! My foot!”. In desperation I rang my father (house phone off the hook, so had to ring my sister’s mobile first and get her to wake my father). I asked could I give Michael one of my own adult paracetemol tablets. How much did he weigh, how much paracetemol was in the tablet? I chopped it up following instructions and Michael was so miserable he swallowed it. About 10 minutes later he was asleep and I was able to text Mr. Waffle my woes for his consumption in the morning.

All night Michael slept the sleep of the just. When I asked how he was in the morning (fearing the worst) he bounded out of bed, saying, “I’m fine.” My father texted me, “How’s Oedipus this morning?” If like me, you thought the only significant thing about Oedipus was that he killed his father and married his mother (notable certainly) then see here.

Wednesday, July 18

After the horrors of the previous night, I was a shadow of my former self. I took the children for the customary tour of Blackrock Observatory which they pronounced satisfactory. Daniel played the theremin:

On the way back to Garryvoe, Daniel said sadly, “I miss home.” “Why sweetheart,” I asked. “There’s no wifi in Garryvoe.” A whole new world people.

More tomorrow.

Garryvoe – Part 2

31 July, 2012
Posted in: Cork, Ireland, Siblings, Travel

Thursday, July 19

We went on our annual pilgrimage to Leahy’s Fun Farm. It didn’t let us down. As ever, the tractors at the entrance were a huge, though to my mind, mildly mystifying, attraction:

There were encounters with animals which Michael didn’t bother with on the basis that he had a packet of crisps which he would rather eat:

It’s not cheap and it’s not slick but if you have children, I cannot recommend this place highly enough.

Friday, July 20

We went swimming first thing in the morning and despite how lovely it looked, it was freezing. There was a reason the beach was deserted.

The boys were keen to participate in Bible Camp which worked out very well as my mother and brother came down to visit. We all went out for lunch, then the boys peeled off to play soccer and learn verses of the bible in the care of large numbers of young adults who will certainly go to heaven for their virtue in running this thing during their holidays. My mother and I went for a stroll and my brother and herself contemplated the water.

Despite having been frozen earlier in the morning and not having her togs with her, she ventured in:

My mother and I volunteered to go back to the house to get towels. But we were slow and just as we were leaving the house, she came dripping up in her soaking clothes and said bitterly, “Where were you? I was just about to call Childline.”

Still, all in all, a huge success and another fine day making this undoubtedly, the best week of the Irish summer so far.

Still more to come. Nearly there now though. Tune in tomorrow when Mr. Waffle returns from the big smoke.