I was at a wake last weekend. The corpse was in the front room and the food was in the kitchen. So far so conventional. However, this wake was catered. There were respectful gentlemen in waistcoats going around serving tea and sandwiches. It was odd but, you know, not a bad idea. I can really see it catching on.
Dublin
Sick of the Car
I almost never sit in traffic. Mostly I’m on the bike. And we have good public transport links. Today, I was reminded of how easy things are normally. I basically spent the day in the car. Sigh.
Daniel pulled something at GAA last night. He’s alright but I decided to drive him to his physics course this morning. Mr. Waffle suggests that we blow up this headline from the paper and stick it on the radiator. Because it is true.
Anyway, after dropping him in town at 9, I went home, had breakfast and got Michael out of bed and we both went back into town to collect Dan. The traffic was awful and we only got in at 10.30. Then the three of us drove out to a university campus where the boys were going to the open day. They could have got the bus or cycled but with Dan’s sore leg, I thought I would give them a lift and combine it with a visit to my mother’s friend who lives nearby. Huge mistake. Traffic was backed up along the dual carriageway and it took us ages to get in. The campus was designed in the 60s and 70s when the car was king. The university moved from the city to the suburbs alongside a busy dual carriageway and the brutalist architects got to do their worst. The consequence is a campus which is unlovely. However, it is a very good university and many of my friends and relations regard it with a fondness which, in my view, borders on lunacy.
After finally dropping off the boys, I went to my mother’s friend’s house and left her at 12.30. I’d arranged to pick up the boys at 3. As I slogged home through the traffic to get my lunch, it became clear that I would never make it there and back again for 3, so I stopped off in a distant suburb for lunch. I went to a restaurant which was there when Mr. Waffle and I lived there many years ago and which we rarely visited as it didn’t allow bookings and there was always a queue out the door. There was no queue out the door today which should have been a sign. The decor appeared unchanged since I last went there about 20 years ago. The food was pretty awful but, look, it met a need. I wouldn’t say I’d be rushing back now.
Google maps told me that I could get to the campus in 10 minutes from my lunch venue. What it didn’t tell me was once I gained access to the campus, which is large, it would be traffic choked and it would take me 20 minutes to drive across it to where I had arranged to pick up the boys.
I got there in the end. Michael emerged full of enthusiasm, he really enjoyed the talks. Daniel was less convinced – having been to Trinity last weekend, he liked the atmosphere there better. Sadly, Michael couldn’t go to the Trinity open day because I had hauled him off to Kilkenny. To be honest, I just didn’t think a university open day would be much use. Having basically grown up on campus on UCC where both my parents lectured and never for a second having contemplated any other university my situation was a bit different. Daniel found the Trinity event really good and both of them found today useful. Who’d have thought it? They will be going to yet another university open day next weekend but I have already alerted them that they will be travelling by bike.
Mid-Term Round Up
The boys were off school last week. I’m not sure they were totally delighted to have their mother around the house arranging activities but they bore up.
Some friends of ours from Brussels, now also resident in Dublin, had an enormous wedding anniversary party – caterers, entertainment, marquee in the garden, the works. “Bring your teenagers,” they said, “there will be lots of young people.” I was a bit dubious but we brought the boys. They had the time of their lives. I was amazed to see them out on the dance floor dancing with enthusiasm. There was a big gang of teenagers, chatting and bonding away. It was brilliant.
Mr. Waffle and I meanwhile struggled slightly. There weren’t many people there that we knew aside from the hosts who were obviously busy and a couple of people we knew a little. We spent some time speaking to a lovely man – a retired solicitor now a psychotherapist – who Mr. Waffle had known professionally. We were joined by a woman I knew thirty years ago when we were on the same course as trainee solicitors. I was able to recognise her as she has not changed at all. She was beautiful then and is beautiful now. She was always really pleasant and very, very clever. I felt that the gods smiled upon her and gave her all the gifts at birth. We talked a bit about our children and then turned to work and, to my surprise, I found that like me she was taking a year out from work. “How exciting,” I said with enthusiasm. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, very gently and pleasantly, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but my husband died last year.” I actually can’t believe that I hadn’t heard – Dublin is tiny – but it was such a shock. There’s definitely a lesson there somewhere.
We were taken to talk to our (French) hostess’s relatives who were over from France and didn’t speak a great deal of English. As French speakers we were offered up. They were very nice but I feel that I spent a lot of the evening speaking to older slightly deaf gentlemen. The culminating insult was when our hostess’s uncle said to myself and Mr. Waffle, “You are retired too, I think?” I think not.
All in all, by the end of the evening, I was a shadow of my former self. The boys had an amazing time though and we had to pry them away when we were going home. So there’s that.
The Dublin marathon was on the bank holiday weekend and I cycled all around the city with supporting banners trying to see the several people I knew who were running and failed to see any of them. I think that they’re all crazy anyhow.
We went out to Dun Laoghaire, had a walk on the pier and dinner out with the cousins which was lovely. It reminds me how one of the main reasons we wanted to come home from Belgium all those years ago was so that the children would know their relatives and I am pleased how well it has worked out.
Mr. Waffle moved office over the break and Michael and I helped unpack his boxes (Daniel was a bit sick). I will tell you this: there is a lot of stationery Mr. Waffle has acquired which he wishes his wife hadn’t been there to unpack (57 sets of file dividers anyone?). However, we finished quite speedily and Mr Waffle took us out for lunch so all’s well that ends well so long as he never brings his stationery stash home.
I took the boys to see an adaptation of an M.R. James short story in the Bewley’s Cafe theatre. I thought it would be suitably Halloweeny. “Who is this Mr. James anyway?” asked Dan. Things were a bit tense beforehand, a combination of lashing rain and a trip to the gallery failing to improve anyone’s mood. I pointed out to the boys a bunch of happy tourists enjoying the rain or at least not hating it as much as they were. Not a truly effective tactic. Mercifully, they quite enjoyed the play after so I’m going to call that a win.
For his birthday we got Michael Kilkenomics tickets. It’s a festival of comedy and economics in Kilkenny. He loves economics, I thought he’d like it. I was disabused of this idiotic notion the second he opened the envelope. We got him something else. And really, I should have found a friend to go with but I brought him anyway in the vain hope that when he got there it might be more fun than he feared.
My first mistake was bringing our bikes on the train. Kilkenny is small and everything was within five minutes of the station. There was no need for bikes and it is a pain bringing your bike on any train other than Cork-Dublin (where they are handily accommodated in the Guard’s van). You have to fit it on a rack designed for strong young men with light bikes.
My next mistake was booking three talks. What was I thinking? We were exhausted after two. The talks were ok and there were even some funny bits. The first one was the worst – it was hosted by Dylan Moran (comedian who knows a lot more about economics than you might expect) and at least one of the speakers was a bit dull. Michael commanded my admiration by asking a question at the end in a theatre filled with about 300 men in their 60s. Again, what was I thinking booking this? We had both read the book “Chums” by Simon Kuper which is an easy read – as Michael said, “gossipy” so we went to a talk by him. It was fine – and the comedian host, Rosie Holt, pretty good but almost everything he said was covered in the book so, not exactly new. He did have one funny story though. Apparently when Prince Edward was at Cambridge he was accompanied everywhere by two security officers. Edward did anthropology and was not very good and the despair of his tutors etc. but one of his security officers became fascinated and started doing the reading and hanging behind to chat to the tutors. Great story, if true, as they say.
We were really drooping at this stage but, happily the final panel was the best. A former Argentinian finance minister was really interesting and all of those on stage (a manel, I fear – honestly, economics on the evidence of this day, is overwhelmingly male) were engaging. There were two things said about Brexit which I thought interesting. One was that this was the first time in a break up that Britain was involved in that it was the smaller, less important, less influential partner. Obviously, in the outgoing tide of colonialism, Britain has had a lot of break ups but it’s arguably always been in the more powerful position. The other was that Britain was a “new state” after Brexit. I knew what the host meant, a bit like French Republics – you know the way they’re on the fifth now – this is a change so fundamental in outlook as well as economics that it is something of a new country. I have to say that the only English person on the stage profoundly disagreed with that analysis but I think there’s something in it. The final question was what was the first thing you would you do if you were a finance minister in a new country. The English man said that he would make radical changes as the country would never be as united as now after an independence movement. Everyone else leapt in to say, “Absolutely not, a civil war is often item one on the agenda of newly independent countries”. But the English man stuck to his guns and it appeared to me stoutly maintained that this is generally not the case. I think he was wrong there but it’s been awhile since they’ve had an armed revolution in England.
Michael and I got back to Dublin exhausted. We were met by other exhausted people. Mr. Waffle had had his course all day and Daniel had gone to the Trinity open day, a reunion with the people from his summer course and a rugby match with his uncle where, I am pleased to report, Ireland won. It was a lot.
On the Sunday before return to school, there was a fair amount of hanging around the house recovering although Dan had a GAA match (of course). I had to go to a removal across town (elderly father of a friend) so I abandoned the men folk to their fate and that was that.
A little tiring overall though. How was your own mid-term?
Out and About
There’s a new Turner exhibition in the National Gallery which I went to see. Genius or no, I didn’t love it. I went to a talk after my tour of the exhibition which was pretty good actually. The audience, on a Wednesday lunch time was composed entirely of elderly women. For once, I felt positively youthful.
I went to the Hugh Lane gallery – always a delight though small, sometimes that can be part of the delightfulness. My visit coincided with that of the Portuguese President who was on a State visit and at the Garden of Remembrance across the road. The members of the army band took shelter in the gallery and I must say they have quite the uniform. A little cape and a kepi – who knew?
I went swimming again with my friend who is a daily swimmer. It was a beautiful day but a bit windy. We got in on the beach side of the swimming shelter and there was a very strong undertow. We were less than two metres from the rocks when my friend said, “Start swimming for the steps.” I did and I made very little progress but eventually got back to the steps and hauled myself out but not before being pushed over the metal banister by a powerful wave. It was really surprising and I thought I was pretty lucky to be with a friend who did so much winter swimming as otherwise, I don’t think I’d have noticed how quickly I was being pulled out to sea. Two older men got in after us and one of them got into trouble. A young couple grabbed the life belt and he went down to the edge of the water (getting his trousers wet) and tossed it into the sea. I could see that the swimmer (maybe in his early 60s) was torn between a macho desire to manage without the ring and self-preservation. Eventually he grabbed the ring. Exciting times, I can tell you.
Mr. Waffle and I went on a Dublin walking tour. I was a bit worried it would be basic and, at best, I expected to learn a couple of things I didn’t know already. I was quite wrong. It was definitely the honours course. The guide took a lot for granted. For example when talking about Dublin housing stock he said in passing, ” I presume you all know about the Church Street Disaster“. There was a general murmur of assent and, indeed, I am familiar with it but I wouldn’t call it mainstream knowledge in Dublin and what on earth the four American tourists on the tour could possibly have known about it, I don’t know. However, for Dublin residents, I thought it was fantastic and I am definitely going to go on another one of his tours.
Several people I know have taken in Ukrainian refugees. I am so impressed by this but mostly they tend to, at least, mention it. I think it is stratospherically virtuous and you could at least get some well-deserved praise. I was amazed when one friend of mine sent out a message asking whether anyone wanted to come to her house for a wreath making workshop with a young designer from Odessa who is living with her. I had had no idea. On inquiry, I found that this young woman has been living with them for the past six months. In fairness, they do have a big house but they also have two primary school age children and it’s a big commitment to bring a stranger into your house with no fixed end date. I am really lost in admiration. Also my wreath? My wreath is amazing.
Boosted
Yesterday the HSE sent me a text message beginning: “Anne age 53 years, keep well this winter.” To be honest, it’s not the perfect greeting. Nevertheless, it was a reminder to me to book my Covid booster appointment which I did yesterday. I got the jab this morning and the whole thing was seamless from start to finish. My vaccinator was an Italian from Bari and I got to practice my Italian to boot (he moved to Ireland, to a small town in Galway in late 2019 – oops). I did not even feel the needle go in and so far so good on side-effects other than the standard sore arm.
To be honest, I kind of wish that I hadn’t decided to take the door off the bathroom cabinet this afternoon but other than that, all is well. And the weather is beautiful. An opportunity for another builder to attempt to fix our gutters at enormous expense. Expect more of this exciting content over the next month.
A Carnival of Delights
So here I am several months into my work break and I am still loving it. I thought once the boys went back to school in September and herself went off to Paris and then back to college, I might get bored. Not at all so far. Last time I had this much time alone was when I was six months pregnant with herself and we had just moved back to Brussels. I can remember being a bit bored. But, I am not pregnant now and it turns out that the increased mobility and being in Ireland rather than just back in a country where everyone I knew was working full time makes a big difference.
My initial plan to re-join the tennis club has been thwarted by an 18 month waiting list. I am outraged. I am half thinking of trying yoga. Is this crazy talk? I have never yoga’d before and I am a bit nervous about starting now. Your thoughts are welcome. In the absence of other forms of exercise, I have been cycling around with enthusiasm. I was particularly proud of a very long cycle I made to a distant suburb beyond the Dublin ring road to meet someone for lunch. I was a bit late for lunch though. It’s a long way. I took Michael for a tamer cycle through the park a couple of weeks ago and he was almost enthusiastic. He finally got a new bike and this has contributed to his enthusiasm levels I think. It positively sails over the ground compared to his clunky old one.
I went for a swim in the sea in September with a good friend who is also not working (she took a redundancy package pre-Covid and is pretty clear she’s not going back). She swims in the sea every day of the year. Not quite sure I am up for that yet. I was surprised how nice a dip in Howth in September could be. She has a lot of kit though. I’m not sure I’m ready for the level of investment required. Still I enjoyed our swim with fellow crazy people and then a lovely lunch in Howth afterwards.
I am finding cooking more enjoyable now that I have more time to do it. I made, yes made, a very successful batch of hummus. I was distressed to find that all this talk of chick peas is nonsense and the main ingredient is basically olive oil.
I was able to visit a good friend of my mother’s from college. She’s probably the only person left on earth to whom I can turn for tales of my mother that I don’t already know. Having known this woman literally all my life she’s probably the only parent-like figure left in my world. This is doubtless why she felt it appropriate to greet me with the words, “You’ve got fat.” True, alas. As we talked about my sister who is buying the rest of us out of the family home and the paper work she is womanfully ploughing through as my father’s executor, my mother’s friend commented on how good she was to take all this on. “Of course,” said she, “she was always the nicest of the three of you, that’s her problem.” Indeed. Weirdly, am quite keen to go back for more of this as she is absolutely great fun and I really like her.
My newfound plenty of time status means that I arranged for a birthday cake for a friend whose birthday fell on a book club date. Unfortunately, it turns out that those of us not gifted with plenty of time are good organisers and there were no fewer than three birthday cakes on the evening. Is too much cake really a problem? I refer you to my mother’s friend’s comments.
I’ve had a lot more time to spend in cafes. I love a good cafe. I have been very impressed by how nice the young people in cafes are to elderly customers. They appear to have almost infinite patience and turn a blind eye to those who furtively unwrap Marietta biscuits from tin foil while sipping their tea. Well, things aren’t getting cheaper, are they? I was particularly impressed by a young woman (his companion not a waitress) listened to an older Polish man describe his colonoscopy in detail. To be honest, I could have done with being seated a little further away.
As covered in an earlier post, I have been to Paris and I’ve also been to England and Wales (more details to come, something to look forward to as I like to say). What I enjoy about travelling in the new dispensation is how much freer it feels when trying to pick travel dates – a day earlier, a day later, it makes no difference.
I’ve had a nasty cold I am having trouble shaking for the past three weeks (not Covid, I tested, other colds exist). I am very nearly better now though I still have a slight cough (makes one feel like an absolute pariah in the current environment) and I have quite enjoyed being sick on my own time. If I’m sick, no one needs to cancel a meeting. I can go out one day and stay at home the next without feeling guilty. Though I do think that I am more noticing of my illness without the stress and adrenaline of work crises to distract me.
I had dinner with a friend the other night. We were supposed to go to a play but it was cancelled due to illness. It’s the first time in years I haven’t gone to the theatre festival but we may have dodged a bullet as our chosen play got, at best, mixed reviews. She asked me whether I was missing work. I really am not. I have had a tough couple of years and maybe I am just decompressing still. But, due to an extensive lunch programme, I’m still getting the best parts of work – the gossip, the gossip obviously – without the normal accompanying pain. I am a bit surprised and a tiny bit sad – I mean what have I been doing with my time – that I don’t miss it at all. There is no pleasing some people is all I can say.
