My father’s first cousin died a couple of weeks ago. She was always very beautiful and quite exotic boasting a tan when everyone else in Ireland was ghostly white. She married a rich man and they seemed to lead extraordinarily glamorous lives even though they lived in Kerry which does not lend itself to glamour. My brother and sister dutifully went to the funeral and met lots of my father’s cousins and reminisced and brought back useful quantities of family gossip. It wasn’t a shock (in fact about a year ago, I had firmly and definitively told my aunt that this woman was dead despite her distinct – and, as it turns out, correct – doubts on that point, so, you know, definitely not a shock) but I do feel that I am certainly edging closer to the front of the church.
Archives for October 2019
“Life is made up of meetings and partings; that is the way of it”*
The weekend before last, Mr. Waffle’s side of the family went away to Wicklow overnight; it was partly because his father’s anniversary was coming up and partly because his sister and her husband and daughter were going back to live in London after a year living in Ireland.
We stayed in Ballyknocken where we have been before. There were 12 of us in total and we had dinner and breakfast (a triumph) and a walk around Mount Usher gardens. There was some talk about October which I generally regard as a gloomy month but is apparently very popular with others. Who knew? It’s so wet and miserable and getting darker but they were all “oh no crisp autumn days” etc. I blame the Americans.
Notwithstanding some debate on October and its merits, it was all very pleasant. It made me a bit sad though because I couldn’t help remembering the last time we were there when Mr. Waffle’s parents had been with us and in much better nick although going downhill. I was also sad because his sister and her family were going back to London and this was a farewell weekend for them. It has been lovely having them in Dublin for the past year – they went back to London last weekend. Their daughter was 2 in June and she has, just about, got used to us and is willing to wander around the house without a parent to chaperone her and I feel all that work will be wasted and we will have to start from scratch next time we see her. I am hoping to Skype her with the cat to keep us fresh in her mind; the cat is very much her favourite member of this family. Ironically, the cat is the only member of the family who is not a big fan of hers. Isn’t it always the way?
My sister-in-law is keen to book something for us all in Kerry next summer and London isn’t so far, I suppose, so could be worse.
*From that classic “A Muppet Christmas Carol” not actually said by Dickens. His loss.
