My oldest friend was talking about her next door neighbours from when she was growing up and what they are up to now. I knew them a bit as well. I remember their dog. “Yes,” said my friend, “the boys were obsessed with World War II and that’s why they called the dog Rommel.” Until that very moment I had believed Rommel to be a perfectly normal name for a dog. It’s not like I hadn’t heard of Rommel the Desert Fox but until then, these two things had lived in different corners of my brain. I would say, I knew Rommel the dog first.
Reading etc.
Late June/Early July Round Up – Bringing you Right Up to Date – Thrills
Friday, June 28, 2024
I was travelling to Cork for the the weekend and began receiving increasingly apocalyptic messages from the train people about how busy it was going to be. There were matches on, and festivals and concerts. As Mr. Waffle put it, “Overcrowding Taylor’s Version”. Honestly possibly followed by “I’m the problem it’s me”. It turns out everyone in the country is a Taylor Swift fan. Anyway, the trains were grand, you will be relieved to hear.
Saturday, June 29, 2024
The reason for my trip to Cork was to visit an old school friend. She has moved to the US and has an American husband and four American children but she bought a house in Kinsale years ago and they come to Ireland for a fortnight every summer. Genius.
I took the bus from Cork to Kinsale to see her. I haven’t been on the bus to Kinsale in years. The last time I took the bus, it was ancient, drafty, irregular and the journey took about an hour. Well, well, well things have changed I can tell you. It was a private operator (yeah, I know, they hoover up the profitable routes etc.) and the bus was convenient, punctual, clean, comfortable and speedy. It only took 25 minutes to get to Kinsale which is faster than I would do it in the car. God I was delighted.
My friend met me in the car park in town. She and her husband had had terrible food poisoning during the week and they were both still feeling a little delicate but definitely on the mend. She and I went out for a walk to the Bulman – a classic adventure – and had lunch. She couldn’t face the mussels – and who could blame her? – but I can confirm that they were very satisfactory.
Then we went back to her house so that I could inspect her children. They get bigger all the time don’t they? Her eldest son has just finished first year in college and her only daughter is starting in the autumn. All three boys still look more of less the same but her daughter has really grown up. She is a very pretty young woman and she made me feel about 102 through no fault of her own; it’s just I remember her aged 3.
While I was there, this super yacht passed by and apparently it belongs to some very rich American family who spent €80 million on it. My friends tell me the super rich Americans have bought the lovely house where my great uncle and aunt lived in the ’50s. I can tell you, the more I hear about this house, the greater my regret that my great aunt decided to sell it and move back to the city after my great uncle died. Oh well. I’m not super rich, but I’m happy.
My friend and I went back into town, explored the shops and had a cup of tea. The rain had held off for our walk in the morning but it made up for it in the afternoon. Still all grand; Kinsale is well supplied with shops worth exploring.
I was really glad I made the trip; my friend has made such an effort to stay in contact with her Irish friends and family and I am always impressed by her dedication. We met in New York last year when I was having my delightful break from work. Possibly there will be more of this kind of thing in our future.
I was staying in my brother’s house as my sister had visitors (she is in my parents’ house and my brother is in my aunt’s house which is next door, I am not sure how any of us feels about this) but I dropped in to see her in the evening. All very pleasant.
My brother had gone up to Dublin that afternoon (it’s like Lannigan’s Ball) so I had the house to myself for the evening.
Sunday, June 30, 2024
While I still bitterly lament the demise of the Crawford Gallery cafe (they have a new tenant, not at all as good), I am becoming very fond of the Good Day Deli which has an strong rus in urbe vibe and very good food.
After a quick breakfast and a farewell to my sister, I hightailed it back to Dublin. Not though before my sister had shown me a big picture of my mother and two of her classmates on the front page of the Irish Times. I can only speculate that the sight of a woman getting a master’s in science snagged the editor’s interest in the 1950s. I would say that was probably the last time a UCC conferring has featured on the front page of the Irish Times as they don’t like to include content from beyond the Pale, if at all possible. I have to say, not a great photo of my mother but there you are, exciting all the same.
Also, at the opposite end of the academic journey, my sister had found my father’s progression card from kindergarten to first grade. Goodness, gracious me, that card has had quite the journey.
Monday, July 1, 2024
Mr. Waffle and I went to see “Inside out”. It’s the kind of film that’s better if you have a young child to hand who can be persuaded to go with you. We did not.
Tuesday, July 2, 2024
Herself returned home. Let joy be unconfined etc. It is nice to have all five of us together.
Friday, July 5, 2024
I worked from home and so was in a position to see two of my three children go out for a morning run around the park. Michael a boy after my own heart, stayed in bed (he was up all night talking to his friends and following the UK general election). Where will it all end?
The Princess, Daniel and I went out for lunch together locally (Mr. Waffle was at a conference and Michael has no interest in food – how can he be my child?) and very pleasant it was too.
We spent the evening with all five of us hunched over the dining room table booking our summer holiday. Not everyone is available at the same time. The logistical challenge has left us all in an enfeebled state.
Saturday, July 6, 2024
I went to the Women Impressionists exhibition in the National Gallery. It was fine and I might go back and have another look but I was not overwhelmed. It had only four women impressionists – are there more? Don’t look at me. Berthe Morisot, Mary Cassat and Eva Gonzalès I had heard of but Marie Bracquemond was new to me. I am scheduled to go to a lecture on the exhibition next week and perhaps I will be in a better position to appreciate it thereafter. It’s one thrill after another here, right?
Travel and Culture
Mr. Waffle went to La Rochelle on a work soccer trip. I begged him not to have a heart attack; he did not and a good time was had by all etc.
Daniel went on a post-exam trip to Sardinia with his fellow students. Hats off to the Airbnb owner who thought it was a good idea to have 14 students in his villa. It took them 45 minutes to walk from the villa to the beach and an hour to walk to the nearest shop. They were car free by necessity. Notwithstanding these significant difficulties, a good time was, almost miraculously, had by all.
At home, rather more prosaically, I went to the RHA annual exhibition. Not too bad. My favourite rotating exhibit is below.
But I liked quite a number of things. It compared favourably with the TUD graduate show (as it ought, I suppose) which I did not hugely enjoy. In previous years there were more paintings, I love a painting. Though I did enjoy talking to the young game designers who, very patiently, talked me through their video games. And I liked the large lego characters so it wasn’t a complete washout.
I also liked the view.
I was at the Hugh Lane gallery recently (where a lot of stuff is in storage as they are about to do a job on the roof) where you can have the impressionists pretty much to yourself which is enjoyable. Hugh Lane who led the campaign for the gallery of modern art – and donated many of its pictures – had a great eye. He loved Mancini though who has not really stood the test of time – I don’t mind him but he’s not exactly a name to conjure with. Lane’s own portrait by Mancini is slightly (presumably unintentionally) hilarious.
I went to hear Olivia Laing talk about her work in a tent (Dublin Literary Festival). The Princess gave me one of Olivia Laing’s books for Christmas and I have not yet read it: on the strength of the talk, I will throw myself into it in due course. I read an interview with Olivia Laing where she said that her mother always says to her “Why don’t you ever tell Irish people that your mother is Irish?” I was quite disappointed that she didn’t follow that advice as we would have loved that in the tent.
I went to a talk in the library about servants in the big house. More interesting than I expected. More Irish people rising up the ranks than I expected; I thought all of the upper servants were imported from England but apparently not. Another day, I tried to go to a consultation in the library but when I got there it was closed and I was directed to another branch. I was filled with rage and fired off an indignant email. Oh God. It wasn’t too bad but I probably would have worded it differently if I knew there had been a death in the service.
Mr. Waffle and I went to the Maritime museum in Dun Laoghaire on a rainy Sunday. It is very much a rainy Sunday activity. However, you see below the highlight, a rotating lighthouse light taken from a real lighthouse (in Howth across the bay) when it was decommissioned. It sits on 14 litres of mercury which feels like a disaster waiting to happen but so far so good.
As part of our going commitment to the art of film, Mr. Waffle and I went to “Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga”. A terrible mistake. Some people liked it, I gather. We were not among their number.
Mr. Waffle and I went back to Altamont House. Still lovely. The house is closed but I am now solidly of an age to enjoy gardens. I recommend.
For reasons I won’t bore you with ( you thought there was no editorial function? Think again) Mr. Waffle and I went in to Halford’s in Carlow town to buy a bike rack on the way back. Staff were very pleasant but had no knowledge of bike racks. I really am afraid that disaster will befall me in England as I try to bring home the Princess’s college bike.
My friend had free tickets for Bloom (a garden festival in the Phoenix Park) and asked me whether I would like to go. I had been once before and not enjoyed it much but going with a friend just made it a much better adventure. Had a great time.
Gutted that I have to go back to work tomorrow after the bank holiday weekend. It seems so wrong.
Last, but by no means least, our local film maker is making another documentary which meant that he could not chair the residents’ committee AGM so Mr. Waffle was, slightly to his chagrin, in the chair. The film maker was filming it as part of his film – who is going to buy this documentary we ask ourselves? However, I guess he knows what he’s at as he’s had loads of things in the cinema and on the TV so this could be Mr. Waffle’s ticket to fame. Mr. Waffle is unconvinced.
Bank Holiday Round Up
I had a bank holiday filled with domestic admin and I now feel filled with virtue but I can’t say that it was my best weekend ever.
We made some effort to tidy the garden (to be honest largely unavailing) in advance of Mr. Waffle’s mother’s cousin coming to fill us in on family history. As befits an engineer, he had a tabbed lever arch file to go through with us. Interesting, in fairness, but a lot of information.
May always reminds me of Marian processions when I was in school as a child and all the Marian hymns which I love. I was not let down at Sunday mass when our (pretty conservative musically) former elderly choir mistress got up at the end of mass and told us all to sing along to “Bring Flowers of the Fairest”. Satisfactory.
In general I believe that May is Ireland’s loveliest month but that has been a challenge to believe so far this year. There has been a surprising amount of rain.
Daniel who finished his end of year exams last week has been out non-stop (sample text received at 5.50 am -“Staying at M’s house, won’t be home” – some of this think that if you’re not in by ten to six, you’re already not home for the night) living his best life undeterred by the rain. He thinks that his exams went ok bar one. We remain optimistic. He said that although the exams may be harder, the stress is far less than the Leaving Cert. This does not reflect well on the Leaving Cert, I feel. God knows, I don’t begrudge him his fun, he has worked like a dog all year.
Mr. Waffle and I went to see “The Fall Guy” on Sunday night. Despite poor reviews (the Irish Times, for example, called it a “tragically unfunny spittoon of bad ideas”), I enjoyed it. I used to love the series with Lee Majors when I was a child (remember, people, we just had one channel and we took what we got and liked it) and mortified Mr. Waffle by singing along to the theme tune when it was played at the end of the film. A win.
On Monday we cycled in the park in the rain (maybe not the outing I was hoping for), I took both boys for driving practice and we spent hours trying to figure out the logistics of our summer holiday and who will be coming and who won’t (herself may have an internship, Daniel may have resits). Preliminary work has been completed. I also booked a ferry to pick up herself in England at the end of term; a hotel for a 60th (I know) we are attending in Donegal; and a flight to go on a weekend away organised for the end of the Princess’s exams (if you were not keeping up, her finals are this year). You think this leisure activity organises itself? #mymiddleclasshell
I now find myself home alone on a Tuesday night because Daniel is out again; Michael is at the cinema (though exams start Thursday, is this wise we ask ourselves?) and Mr. Waffle is off at football. Is this the future? I have to say it has its positives but something will have to give on dinner arrangements.
And how was your own bank holiday weekend?
Quiet Quitting
For many, many years, I always had a book in my handbag. I referred to it as my handbag book (I’m quite literal) and it was usually a small paperback and I would read it in queues or other unexpected moments in my day when I had to wait. I never found the episodic nature of this reading unsatisfactory and I was quite happy with my handbag book.
Then in 2011, I got my first smartphone. So light. So entertaining. I abandoned the handbag book and so it was for many years. But then the smartphone got a bit all consuming and gradually I deleted all the entertaining apps. So, I found myself recently going on to online banking for entertainment in a queue (insert your own joke here) and I decided that it was time to reinstate the handbag book. I am pleased with the result.
If there is a moral to this story
, I am unsure what it is.Weekend Round Up
This wasn’t technically the weekend (last Wednesday in fact) but I went to “The Pull of the Stars” in the Gate with a friend and it was really very good. Anything Louise Lowe directs is excellent. The theme was not particularly appealing to me (set in a maternity hospital after the Rising and towards the tail end of World War I at the beginning of the Spanish flu) and the script was a bit heavy on exposition at times but she made it work. Recommended.
I went to Cork on Friday for the first time in ages. I had to sign documents for the solicitor for my aunt’s probate as, more’s the pity, I am her surviving executrix. I took the day off so had a bit of time in Cork to myself. I went to the Market – heaving – not really for vegetarians.
I went to Home Sense looking to replace a broken teapot. I didn’t find what I was looking for but there was a statue of the Sacred Heart for €179. Hard to know who’s going to buy that one.
I took myself off to the Crawford which was as lovely as ever. There was a flag exhibition.
Our neighbours had their own special place.
I was surprised to see the crochet sphinx, last seen by me in Belfast in August 2020 (a trying time). Memorable. Like meeting an old friend.
There was this exhibit that for me definitely falls into the “But is it art?” category but when I showed it to Mr. Waffle (our chief laundry officer) on my return home he was quite taken with it.
They also had this fantastic “Diary of a Victorian Dandy” series. The pictures are nearly life size and very clever and striking in the flesh as it were.
After my afternoon of art, law and commerce I headed towards my brother and sister’s houses. My parents and my aunt lived next door to each other. My sister has bought my parents’ house and my brother is staying in my aunt’s so that the generational pattern is repeating. Neither of them likes it when you say that. My sister is getting lots of work done so I was staying with my brother and aside from being freezing, the house was fine. When will it stop being perishing?
On Saturday my sister and I went through one of the wardrobes in her house. It contained, I fear, a range of toys purchased for my children as well as clothes of my mother’s from the 80s. I was weirdly sad to see them go. I remembered her wearing that check coat. Still it was in good nick and someone else might find a use for it. I felt a bit sad bringing the bags into the charity shop all the same. Still it is done. I felt very virtuous afterwards until my sister suggested going through one side of the bookcase. Having briskly disposed of the clothes, I found the books much harder. I gave my sister a pile to bring in the car next time she comes to Dublin (I was travelling by bike and train which does not readily lend itself to transportation of large piles of books). She will, inter alia, be bringing to my house in Dublin a brochure printed in Cork in 1929 celebrating the centenary of catholic emancipation; King Albert’s book produced to help Belgium in World War I; a world atlas from 1958; and a Heath Robinson book of contraptions. Eclectic. Catholic even.
That evening we went to a long deferred birthday dinner for me. My brother had booked this rather nice restaurant; all three of us went and he paid. We had the tasting menu and we all waddled home contentedly after.
On Sunday I was up with the lark to get the train that got into Dublin at lunch time as I had my Sunday afternoon book club and I was determined not to miss it. And very pleasant it was too. I feel a bit tired today though after my weekend of middle-aged dissipation. And how was your own weekend?
