Family

Kerry – A Successful Experiment in Communal Living

13 July, 2011
Posted in: Family, Ireland

And we’re back. You will recall that I spent last week in the wilds of Kerry with extended family. My very kind parents-in-law rented a house and invited us all to stay. They got a crop of 2 sons, 2 daughters-in-law and 5 grandchildren.

Saturday, July 2

The journey to Kerry was, as ever, horrendous. 3 hours to County Kerry and then a further three hours to get to Caherdaniel at the extreme end. We stopped for a picnic outside Adare having crawled through the town due to some exciting festival. The spot was considerably less idyllic than this picture might make you think as cars were whizzing along the main road opposite us having just broken free of Adare.

We were also somewhat delayed by the Ring of Kerry cycle – 1000s of insane people cycled round the Ring of Kerry (112 mountainous miles) that day and we met most of them on our journey. The road was windy and poor Daniel was sick (out the window – those are narrow, winding roads with no hard shoulders). All in all, we were tired people when we pulled into the holiday house that evening. Once we had been restored by tea. Grandad Waffle suggested that Mr. Waffle might like to go the pub – he was, nobly, reluctant but overborne. Mr. Waffle’s mother suggested that we walk to the beach – a suggestion which was greeted by her grandchildren with immense enthusiasm and by her daughter-in-law with none at all. However, my mother-in-law was proved right and no sooner did we get to the beach than the children threw on their togs and, oh the delight, proceeded to completely ignore us. Children are so hardy. Please observe what your correspondent wore to the beach. The item wrapped around my legs is my daughter’s jumper. You may well ask what exactly I am wearing and why a dead animal appears to be sitting on my head. I cannot say. Keep this image in your mind – this is how I looked all week, except sometimes I was wetter.

Late on Saturday night, the cousins arrived together with their parents, Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife. Think of how I look above. You should know that my sister-in-law, who is a delightful person is, however, tall and willowy – furthermore, she is half Italian and her sister is a stylist. I’m only saying. I would post a picture of her doing yoga on the beach but the contrast would be too painful.

Sunday, July 3

Oh the delight of the cousins on seeing each other on Sunday morning – particularly the boys who are very close in age. The addition of cousins stops Daniel and Michael hitting each other for reasons I don’t fully understand but it is so welcome.

The trip to the pub quickly proved its merit. It allowed Grandad Waffle to chat to an old friend of his with a speedboat. Grandad Waffle kindly used up his credit with his friend to get us all a spin on this boat. Sunday morning saw us sitting hopefully on the pier. Michael was curiously resistant to this treat. Close questioning revealed that he believed that having driven to Kerry the previous day, we planned to get the ferry to France that morning. His plaintive bleats of “Can’t we go on the boat another day?” were explained. I suppose we big people are so odd, this was just the kind of thing we might do.

The weather was glorious. I had never been on a speed boat before and, I have to tell you, it is excellent. The children and I had a fabulous time and the Princess confided to our captain that it represented the high point of her life to date. I told her that her kind grandfather was the supplier of this treat and that, in fact, the grandparents were paying for the whole holiday. “Even the hot water?” she asked awed.

I might digress here to explain that, unlike in other countries, hot water does not come readily from Irish taps. You need to remember to turn on the immersion at least half an hour beforehand and, crucially, also to turn it off. Otherwise you will be scalded when, innocently, a couple of hours later you turn on the hot tap expecting it to be tepid at best and it is near boiling. Parents become somewhat obsessed by the immersion and particularly turning it off which not only saves everyone from death by boiling but also saves money and, possibly, stops the immersion exploding. I know a woman who, as a child, left the immersion on accidentally and realising that this was the case knew that her father would be furious. So, surreptitiously, she went to the bathroom, turned on the hot tap in the bath and poured a whole tank of hot water down the drain rather than suffering the consequences of his discovering the dreadful truth. This explanation by Irish American comedian Des Bishop, is perhaps the best way for non-Irish residents to understand the ramifications of the system.

Monday, July 4

We took the children horse riding which ours enjoyed mildly and the cousins rather more (first outing). Although Daniel seemed to be quite happy while riding, on dismounting, he complained bitterly that his horse sneezed and put him off. Given the weather, it would be hard to blame the horse. About this point, I became aware that my brother-in-law (who is immensely outdoorsy – maps, running up mountains at night, orienteering) was getting spectacularly accurate though unwelcome weather predictions from the Norwegians (www.yr.no). I offer you this, lest some day you too would welcome hour by hour predictions of rainfall levels in South Kerry. Your search is over.

The weather gave Michael an opportunity to hone his card playing skills and he defeated each of his relatives in turn at Happy Families until he could find no one to play with. Daniel meanwhile read,

and read

and read.

His reading has been improving for ages but he really got the hang of it in Kerry – he read to his brother and cousin, he read alone, he read road signs. He loves to read. Michael still doesn’t think much of it: he’s focussing on becoming a professional poker player.

We made our annual visit to Staigue Fort which is really a most astounding structure but as I stood there in the damp July weather, I did think that our ancestors must have had a pretty miserable time.

More tomorrow. Possibly a little less dull, possibly not.

What’s it like when you get home from work?

27 June, 2011
Posted in: Family

I steel myself slightly as I walk in the door. The troops are always delighted to see me as each has been storing up grievances since earlier in the day which he or she would like to share, ideally, before I take off my coat.

The children accost me from all sides with competing tales of their activities. If I am first home, I try to hear from the childminder how the day went but it is always “fine”. I am, in any event, constantly interrupted by the clamour of children demanding to tell me their news and physically pinioning me to the couch. The boys have no sense of timing and always choose this moment to ask for a story or that I superglue some broken toy. Often there are offerings of colourings or drawings. The fight for my attention sometimes breaks down into open warfare. I know what Oliver James would say about this but I am humming with my fingers in my ears.

If Mr. Waffle is home before me, the childminder has gone (good) and he is in the kitchen making dinner (also good). Homework has to be done after we return from work and is invariably tedious and takes a great deal longer than might reasonably be expected due to resistance from the staff side.

Dinner follows. This exercise invariably depresses both parents as, pretty much regardless of what is served up, the boys will refuse to eat it. Consequently, I suppose, the boys desire to sit at the dinner table is somewhere around nil. Much of dinner is spent saying “Please sit down” through gritted teeth.

After the children clear the table and receive a biscuit reward, we begin the long slow slide to bedtime. Teeth, toilet, pyjamas, smiley face [elaborate and probably over-generous reward system for good behaviour] for the boys. And then, my favourite part of the evening with them, reading a story. I am reading “The Folk of the Faraway Tree” by Enid Blyton at the moment. My mother said that this is the book that taught me to read as she simply couldn’t face reading it aloud. I am finding it delightfully nostalgic though I can perceive dimly why she might have been nauseated by the cast of pixies, brownies, elves and cute little bunnies. And the boys enjoy it so much. Michael is agog with excitement. One night, I went upstairs at 10 and he was still awake staring at the bottom of the upper bunk. “Why are you still awake?” I asked. “I’m thinking about Connie and hoping she gets back to the Faraway Tree.”

And then smiley face for herself, and then upstairs with her to see her into bed. She is always slightly hysterical in the bathroom; I assume from exhaustion. Then she hops into bed with her book and I retreat warily downstairs. The boys then have to be supplied with cuddles and hot water bottles.

On a good night, nobody comes downstairs and our work is done by the nine o’clock news and we sit in front of it with tea and feel middle aged. On a bad night, one or two children come down. Daniel, very virtuously, never comes down. Michael often comes down to allege violence. The other night he arrived down weeping because he had dropped a â‚¬2 coin in his eye. He now has a crescent shaped bruise on his eyelid.

At 10 o’clock, having seen to the laundry, Mr. Waffle often retires. He believes that, if he left the laundry to me, we would never have a clean stitch. I like to believe that this isn’t true. Sometimes I sit up late into the night playing on the internet.

Everything is better on Wednesdays as I don’t work on Wednesday afternoons and the house is tidy, homework is done and dinner is ready at 6.30 [which is when we usually get home]. Unfortunate but there it is. I am [Americans please look away] taking 2 months off this summer between holidays and parental leave [unpaid, but my husband has promised to keep me] and it starts at the end of this week on July 1. Rejoice with me, if you can stand to. I feel it will make for a much more serene home life. And the children won’t have to go to course after course, a less than satisfactory solution to school holidays employed in the past. I wouldn’t describe my colleagues as ecstatic about this development but they are resigned.

And now tell me, what do you do of an evening?

First Communion

24 May, 2011
Posted in: Family, Princess

The Princess made her first communion on Saturday. Although the weather was not terrific, the whole thing passed off reasonably peacefully. Relatives travelled from far and wide: one aunt from Holland, one from London, one great aunt and one grandmother from Cork and all the others from the South side of the Liffey, a journey which my brother pointed out was really further than any other.

As our house, alas, is too small to accommodate visitors, my mother stayed with an old friend of hers – a really lovely woman who is also a friend of mine. When I told her where the ceremony was she gasped in mock horror and said to my mother, “What have we done to our children?” And the location was a little daunting. The ceremony was in a church in the north inner city surrounded by boarded up flats and beautiful, though sadly decaying, Georgian buildings. Very authentic.

The congregation contained more people with tattoos than I have ever seen together in one place. When I mentioned this to a colleague she commented, “You’ve never been on a package holiday to the sun, then.” True, I suppose. Many of them were the kind of people you would feel slightly nervous about meeting in a dark alley. On the plus side, if you did meet them, clearly, “My daughter is your son’s class” would be a get out of gaol free card.

The service itself was lovely. The children looked very smart in their school uniforms. They all had speaking roles [in Irish] and they were very impressive. I was really proud of my little girl who delivered her prayer of the faithful confidently and fluently and who led singing after communion [reprise here]. Unlike other cases I have heard about, the congregation didn’t do odd things like talk loudly throughout the ceremony. Although those of us who spoke some Irish were at a considerable disadvantage as we would hop up when the priest said “SeasaigÃ” and nervously sit down again when we realised that the only other people standing were the first communicants.

After the mass we took ourselves off to a restaurant on the quays which served pizza and things that the grown-ups might like also and the Princess started raking in cash. She did say thank you very nicely to her generous relatives. As with all group events, it took ages for the food to arrive but, miraculously, all of the children were exceptionally well behaved. The boys were clearly influenced by their new jackets [too big, alas, worn over trousers which turned out to be too short, sigh] which they thought were very smart.

All in all, I think it went very well.

Historic Times [now with extra traffic restrictions!]

16 May, 2011
Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland

The Queen of England is arriving in Dublin tomorrow. I hadn’t spoken about it particularly at home. However, as we live in an exciting part of town, I recently realised that this information vacuum was being filled by what herself was reading on the lamp posts – “No Queen in the city of ’16”, for example. So I explained to them that this was a historic and welcome step in the normalisation of relations between two countries and so on.

The first intimations I had that this was likely to be deeply inconvenient historic step etc. etc. came some time later. Normally when the Queen [or ‘an BhanrÃon EilÃs’ as she is known in communications from our school] goes to places, children give her flowers. School children in Dublin whose schools are near places she is to visit are being given the day off. Instead of our children greeting her with flowers, I gather that there is to be a sniper on the roof to keep the Queen safe. This has, understandably, made her visit hugely popular with the children and it seems unlikely, at this point that Barack Obama’s historic visit next week [yes, really, next week] will measure up. Unless, that is, he goes to the same places and the CIA insist that the school is closed again, in which case, I will cry.

I understand from a friend of mine who is on the Western Circuit that prosecutions have stopped as there isn’t a Guard in left the West of Ireland. They’ve all been moved to Dublin for the impending back to back State visits. This morning, most of these Guards appeared to be posted in the centre of Dublin between our home and the children’s school. I am forced to confess that if I were looking for dissident republicans in Dublin, I would certainly start in our postcode area and areas adjacent. It’s a bit unfortunate that two of the Queen’s official engagements take her into the heart of these areas. I suppose that she’s been in more dangerous places, Northern Ireland leaps to mind but still, I wouldn’t fancy it myself, if I were her. Of course, if I were her, I would have abdicated years ago, so, quite different personality types then.

This morning, the traffic was dreadful with many roads sealed off. In the car, on the radio [as opposed to in person, ok you knew that], the Garda Commissioner refused to comment on whether British police would be lining the streets of Dublin and reinforcing Gardai. But he made positive noises about co-operation and excellent working relationships with British counterparts.

We abandoned the car some distance from our destination and skipped through bizarrely car free streets to the school, being diverted several times on the way. On the way we saw authorities hacking away at foliage with untoward vigour. Doubtless more security measures. At the final hurdle a guard seemed to have been authorised to let us in and he ushered us through saying cheerfully, “BrostaigÃ!” [Hurry up]. Michael turned to him and said, in tones of amazement, “You’re English, but you know Irish!” The Guard was somewhat baffled, as was I, until I recalled the discussion on the radio. This you realise, is 24 hours BEFORE the monarch’s plane touches down on Irish soil. As we were going around several windy blocks [with Daniel complaining bitterly that he was freezing but that he wouldn’t wear that coat because he didn’t like it], she was quite possibly sitting in Buckingham Palace having toast. I suppose that’s a perk of a job that involves being protected by snipers.

Apparently, there is no private car access to one of the city’s main maternity hospitals for security reasons on Tuesday and Wednesday. Trained obstetricians will be posted on the street corners to make sure that those approaching the hospital on foot are really pregnant [ok, I made that up].

And the Queen’s visit has even more momentous counsequences, on Wednesday, the children are going to school but will not be able to leave the school premises during school hours. What is the problem with this you ask? Well, it was to be the occasion of one of the final church rehearsals for Saturday’s First Communion and they have been unexpectedly confined to base. The mÃºinteoir is apparently tearing her hair out. I think that they still had quite a bit of rehearsal to go. My suggestion to herself that they might spend the time in prayer and spiritual preparation fell on distinctly stony soil.

I also work in the city centre and ever more alarming press releases have been circulated on to staff from the Garda press office and public transport providers.

Edited highlights from Press Release circulated last week [my comments in brackets]:

General advice:

There will be diversions and rolling road closures which will be flagged in advance.

For security reasons, there will be periodic searches of pedestrians and vehicles by members of An Garda SÃochÃ¡na at key locations.

The following roads are among the routes that will be subject to temporary closures at various times between 17 May and 20 May 2011 (full details to be notified to the public when finalised and closer to the time):

N7, N4 and M50 [i.e. main routes out of the City to the South and the motorway around Dublin – the M50 is to Dublin what the M25 is to London]

Phoenix Park [Apparently, the Phoenix park is closed for 2 weeks. For 2 WEEKS – this is the Queen and Barack Obama combined – they are both staying there [sequentially, obviously, otherwise the protocol and logistics might kill us all]. Problems with this include the following: it’s a huge amenity for the city – I think it’s the largest city park in Europe – it has the zoo, playgrounds, cricket pitches, polo fields, GAA grounds, parkland, deer, the President’s house, a hospital, a main road running through the middle of it, the US ambassador’s residence and a residence for visiting dignataries. You can see how those last two have turned out to be more problematic than planned. My sister tells me that every time I phone her, I say, “Do you know that they’re going to close the Phoenix Park for 2 WEEKS?”]
North and South Quays, and adjacent bridges and streets. [All the traffic in Dublin flows along the quays, stop the quays, nothing moves anywhere – yeah, I know, great system].

There will be no parking in the following areas from 06:00 on Saturday 14 May [i.e. the Saturday before the Tuesday on which the Queen’s plane touches down] to Friday 20 May 2011. Barriers will be placed along all or some of these routes over the same time period:
Chesterfield Avenue, North Quays, South Quays, Parkgate Street, Oâ€™ Connell Street, Parnell Square (All Sides), Dâ€™Olier Street, Westmoreland Street, College Street, Grafton Street, Nassau Street, South Leinster Street, Lincoln Place,Westland Row, Pearse Street, Bridge Street, High Street, Cornmarket, Thomas Street,
Jamesâ€™s Street, Crane Street, Bellevue, Lord Edward Street, Dame Street, Conyngham Rd, Rainsford Street, Christchurch Place, South Circular Road (Con Colbert rd â€“ Conyngham Rd), Beresford Place, Gardiner Street, Mountjoy Square, Fitzgibbon Street, Russell Street, Jones Rd, Memorial Rd, Castle Street, Werburgh Street, Ship Street, Stephen St, Guild Street, Sherriff Street Upper
[This is essentially, EVERY street in the city centre.]

And then, if you were thinking of taking the tram, the following turned up in inboxes:

On Tuesday May 17 2011 the Luas Red Line service, (Tallaght to Connolly and The Point Stops) will run as normal between Tallaght and Connolly until 13:00pm. From 13:00pm till 17. 15pm service will operate between Tallaght and Blackhorse Stops only. Please also note, Luas Abbey Street Stop on Tuesday May 17 will be closed from 5.30am to 17:15pm Passengers are advised to watch this website (www.luas.ie) for updated information. Similarly, there will be Red Line service changes on Wednesday May 18 2011. Luas Red line service will operate normally from Tallaght to Connolly stop until 8.25am. From 8.25am till later in the evening, approximately 16.25pm the service will operate between Tallaght and Blackhorse Stop only.

And then, the rail services added their mite:

Full services will operate across DART, Commuter & Intercity, with the following alterations:
There will be some brief suspension of services between Connolly and Pearse at the request of GardaÃ for security reasons, at the following times:

10.45hrs-11.15hrs; 14.30hrs-15.00hrs, 15.30hrs-16.00hrs

During these times, northside services will operate from Howth / Malahide and Drogheda to and from Connolly Station; and Southside services will operate from Bray and Greystones to and from Pearse Station, meaning customers will still be able to travel to and from the city. There will also be delays to Maynooth line services.

Maynooth services will not serve Drumcondra Station between 10.30hrs and 16.00hrs on Wednesday 18th May. Trains will operate to a full schedule, but will not stop at Drumcondra.

Europa League Final

At the request of the GardaÃ, for security reasons, Lansdowne Road Station will be closed from 17.00hrs to 20.00hrs on Wednesday 18th May, the evening of the UEFA Europa League Final.

Customers should travel to and from Grand Canal Dock Station or Sandymount Station during this time.

Did you like the way the Europa League Final is also scheduled? Is it any wonder that there are no Guards left in the West?

Countdown

4 May, 2011
Posted in: Family, Princess

The Princess’s first communion approaches. Today, her grandfather realised that it is also the day of the Heineken Cup final. Torn between two lovers etc.

Herself has made a calendar on which she is crossing out the days up to the 21st, noting significant events. I asked her had she included space for prayer and spiritual preparation. “If mÃºinteoir asks me, I will provide for that,” she said coldly. She still doesn’t quite see what her father and I find so hilarious about this.

Outing

24 April, 2011
Posted in: Family, Ireland

On Saturday we went for an outing to the site of the Battle of the Boyne. Despite Mr. Waffle’s dubiety this proved a very successful expedition with an interesting exhibition, many cannons and some lovely parkland. And, as Michael pointed out to me, in great excitement, a map. The exhibition was very carefully done to reflect what is usually tactfully referred to as “both traditions”. It was underlined that Irishmen fought on both sides. There was no triumphalism and only sign of the unfortunate outcome for Irish catholics was a copy of this act without a great deal of further comment:

The children were delighted by the interactive displays and the adults were interested. The occasion was only marred by an all too accurate description of the failed charge of the Jacobite cavalry. This led to the Princess moaning for the rest of the afternoon: “They killed the horses, they killed the innocent horses.” Pointing out that, as the battle took place some 320 years ago, the horses were long dead was of no comfort to herself. Even a picnic in the park in glorious sunshine was only a slight distraction from the nastiness of battle and the infinitely superior regime pertaining for horses in Narnia.

After lunch we took ourselves off to the ruins of the Cistercian Abbey at Mellifont. The visitor centre was closed and I feared that we might not be able to get to the site itself but it was open and we saw it at its best. There were few other visitors and the weather was beautiful. The children occupied themselves filling their hats with gravel and we were able to lie on the grass admiring the surroundings and imagining the cloisters.

At about 5 in the afternoon when we returned home, I had to go into town to pick up some things. Town was hot and heaving with people, most of them sweaty, red-faced, disgruntled children in buggies. I finished my errands in ten minutes and flew home borne up on the wings of smugness as I reflected on our glorious day in the country. I am sure that this is very bad but I’m past caring.