Dublin

Over the years I have left a fair share of my income in the Avoca cafe in Suffolk Street. After a tough week recently, I went in at the tail end of the working day for a cup of tea and a bun. Owing to my head cold, I had a lemsip instead of tea (powder by me, boiling water by them). After I had finished my bun, I went to pay, sniffing into my tissue (lemsip only moderately effective) and the man behind the counter (known to me by sight) smiled kindly at me and said, “That’s alright.” “Eh?” “Ah sure, it’s only a bit of chocolate.” Free bun worth €3.65 for me. Also, I suppose, free boiling water, and a warm, toasty glow. Wasn’t that lovely?

We went up to the Hellfire Club in the Dublin mountains last weekend to see the snow but alas, it had almost, but not entirely, melted.

As I was walking past the GPO, I heard an Australian say to a woman who was posting a letter, “Do you by any chance know what the Easter Rising is?”

That is all. Maybe you had to be there.

I am pulling together a pub quiz team. My friend R and his wife have said they will come though he has warned me “our knowledge is more likely to be largely congruent rather than complementary.” I am keen to get a sporting expert for our team. R asked could he bring his [adult] children? By all means, bring offspring, said I, particularly if sound on Gaelic games.

His reply: “Believe it or not, S played on the Hanoi team at a South-East Asia Gaelic football tournament in Saigon. I don’t think I would have regarded this as a likely prospect when I was reading about Viet Nam in Time Magazine every week in 1968.”

We have to transfer the electricity in the new house from the vendors to us. The task of ringing customer service in the electricity company fell to me.

Them: Ring, ring, ring. Thank you for calling Airtricity customer service. Please input your account number. Please dial 1 etc etc. Eventually a human being comes on the line.
Me: Hello I’m ringing about moving an electricity account.
Him: You must be Anne.
Me: Sorry.
Him: Aren’t you Anne?
Me: Yes.
Him: I was talking to [the vendor] this morning and she said that you would be calling.
Me [faintly]: Oh right.
Him: Do you want it in your name or Mr. Waffle’s?
Me: How do you know my husband’s name?
Him: Did I get it wrong?
Me: No, no, you’re right, I’m just a bit surprised. Eh, my name please.
Him: Do you want to pay by direct debit?
Me: Yup.
Him: Give me your bank account and sort code details there.
Me [Give numbers]: But don’t you need me to sign something?
Him: No that’s grand. You’re all set up now from December 18th. That’s the day you closed, isn’t it?
Me [by now unsurprised]: Yup that’s right.
Him: I have the readings from the vendor; do you want to double check them or are you happy enough?
Me: That’s fine. I really hope that they are recording this conversation for quality purposes.
Him: Ah you’re very good Anne.

Utterly painless: Airtricity, I salute you. Although, if I ever acquire a stalker you will be the first people I will put on my list of suspects.

I finally saw inside our new house on December 20. There was a charming card from the vendors, a bottle of wine and some chocolate polar bears. It is a lovely, lovely house.

We decided not to tell the children until after Christmas because I knew Michael would be upset. On St. Stephen’s Day we took them to see it. The Princess was pleased; Daniel was indifferent; and Michael was distraught. He spent the duration of the visit sitting in a fetal ball crying. When we got back to our own house, he threw himself on the stairs and said, “Goodbye stairs”, then he turned to the wall and said, “Goodbye wall.” “Sweetheart,” I said “we won’t be able to take the walls and the stairs to the new house but we will be able to take all your things.” “Will I be able to take my pear tree?” he asked.

Over Christmas, however, Michael became resigned to his fate and even began to run around the new house as though he might be able to contemplate living there. He has a couple of months to get used to the idea because we won’t be moving in until we get central heating.

The vendors have left a book of old postcards in the house with cards dating back to the 30s sent to this address. The house hasn’t changed hands much since it was built in 1890 [I find the title deeds fascinating in a way I never did when I had to deal with them professionally – I’m going to get copies and read the title] and I really hope that we will be there for a long time too.

Wish us luck.