Epiphany

Today is called Women’s Christmas or Little Christmas in this part of the world and the idea is that the women who spent so much work on all of the main Christmas celebrations would get a day off.

I have enjoyed a day off other than wrestling with hanging a picture for Michael. These Christmas presents can present their own challenges, can’t they? A moment of diversion was caused by Michael knowing the names for all the tools in Irish – one year of woodwork in school – but not in English – no DIY experience at home then.

Meanwhile poor Mr. Waffle has just returned from a Saturday of toil at the office. Understandably he is unfilled with seasonal joy but he has just had a cup of tea and a mince pie so surely things are improving?

Tonight we’re out to dinner for my sister-in-law’s 50th birthday, let us hope that this will cheer us all up, including the children who will get pizza. Well, in fact, who knows what herself will have as she is, once more, back in England to spend the weekend with friends (a carbon footprint as big as the Ritz). She’s back on Sunday night for a meeting in Dublin on Tuesday and then she is definitively back to England until April where she will be studying like a demon for her finals. Would she welcome a visit during that time? Possibly not. Might I visit anyway? Well, I’m not totally ruling it out.

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There and Back Again

Herself returned from London yesterday after a busy 36 hours.

She was up at 6 on New Year’s Eve. She took the ferry to Holyhead; then the train to Crewe; then caught the London train. Then when she got to London, it was still too early to go to her party; she had to get the early ferry because the later one would not have made the London train. She considered visiting her aunt, uncle and cousin but London is so vast that she felt that she would only have arrived and then she would have to turn around again. So she went to a three hour film about Mrs. Tchaikovsky (in Russian, naturally) and at the end it turned out that it was all made up. She now arguably knows less about Mrs. Tchaikovsky than when she started and she was still early for her New Year’s Eve party.

I am happy to report that the party was a great success.

At 2 in the morning the airline notified her that her 9.30 am flight home was cancelled and she eventually got home at 7.30 in the evening.

All I can say is that it’s good that the party was enjoyable, but I can think of literally NO entertainment which would make me go through that. Insert your own thoughts about the fortitude of youth here.

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