I am very jam ready this year. I have all the kit. I will be off work. Nothing can stop me. Have the plums failed? Yes, yes, they have. Could be a bumper year for apple jelly yet.
Matters Funereal
A friend of mine’s brother died suddenly last month. He was 63 which is not as old as it once was and it was entirely unexpected.
I went up to leafy South Belfast for the funeral. I’ve never really ventured to the southern suburbs of Belfast before – I mean, why would I? – and I was surprised by just how pleasant and leafy it was.
The funeral was sad, the family were still in shock really. I had hoped that there would be more of a break between attending my friends’ parents funerals and their siblings’ funerals but there you are.
On my way back down to Dublin I stopped off at Lisburn for a look at the Linen Museum, advertised from the main road, in the firm belief that where there is a museum, there is a good tea shop. It is with regret that I inform you that this is not the case. I’d never been to Lisburn before. It’s a dormitory town for Belfast and on a Wednesday morning in May most of the inhabitants appeared to be school children or pensioners.
There was an exhibition in the museum on the foundation of Northern Ireland. A difficult time all round. I’m probably more used to a nationalist perspective on these matters. There was a panel about Oswald Swanzy’s murder. Not covered on the panel but it is my understanding that the local Cork IRA men asked to be deployed specially to Lisburn to take him out. If my experience is anything to go by, they must have stuck out like a sore thumb. I felt like I was the first Cork person to visit Lisburn since. Funny spot.
The main square is dominated by this eye-catching statue.
Again, a bit of a controversial subject.
The linen bit of the museum was really interesting. It was staffed by very knowledgeable locals who – when not dealing with primary school tours – had lots of time on their hands to talk to me. One man was spinning and I asked whether they used the thread in their looms in the museum. Apparently not because each person spins in a different way and you can only use thread that has been spun the same way on the loom.
They had a jacquard loom which looked immensely complex.
The woman who was in charge of the room with all the looms was very gloomy. “It’s like trying to raise the dead,” she said. Apparently, linen needs to be made in a damp place (weaver’s cottage ideal) and it does not take kindly to the dry museum air.
Apparently there are only four acres of land under flax in Ireland now which means that basically all Irish linen is made from flax grown abroad and some material labelled Irish linen is actually only packed in Ireland. I bought myself a table runner from one of the local companies that import flax and make their own linen. Another massive local company was Barbour which made thread. I remember the brand clearly from when I was growing up but apparently it is now no longer with us.
All very interesting actually and beautifully presented in the way of a small local museum.
A couple of days later, Mr. Waffle went to get some thread to repair a rent in a pillow case. Look what he found, inherited from my mother.
He says that he looked it up on eBay and people are willing to pay €10 for spools of Barbour thread. All I can say is that we are sitting on a goldmine.
Where had we left matters?
It was mid-May, I was finishing work mid-June. Good news, I am still finishing June 17. Bad news, this last two weeks before I finish up, they are going to squeeze work out of me until the pips squeak.
My niece turned 14 in mid-May and we all went out to dinner to celebrate. There was an adults’ table and a teenagers’ table which worked well for everyone. My only fear was that one of the boys would tell their cousin what her present was before her parents gave it to her the following day. They booked tickets for her to go to London to see Hamilton. I confided this to the boys in advance but they dutifully kept it secret even when their cousin said, “I don’t know what my parents are getting me, the present isn’t hidden in any of the usual places.” Her father sent round a photo of her opening her present the next morning and getting a big surprise which we all enjoyed. Like my sister-in-law said, “We’re desperately trying to catch up on the things Covid took away from our children.”
We had the Dutch Mama to stay overnight – she was in Dublin for a work trip (and got Covid in the process, alas, we remain – almost miraculously, Covid free) – and she told us how her 15 year old on a trip to a European Youth Parliament with her school mates ended up sleeping in Helsinki airport due to a delayed flight. No teachers, although some of the school mates were 18 so there was that. Honestly, the Dutch are very daring. Anyhow the child was none the worse for her experience and it makes me think that Daniel will be fine on his trip to Rome later this week.
Fame!
This is the first time this has ever happened to me. I went to a cycle week event at the weekend and one of the marshals came up to me and stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I read your blog.†The thrill. The next thing he said was, “That guy at work who thinks you look sixty is completely crazy.†That was the right thing to say.
The cycle ride was lovely too. Glorious weather. Loads of small children out on the roads. A feeling of slight smugness. One man had chosen to run beside his four year old. He wasn’t really dressed for it and I don’t think he fully expected the four year old to stay the course but children are full of surprises. And free pancakes at the end.
I couldn’t persuade Mr. Waffle and the boys to come. Too busy at home.
Grands, Petits РM̻me Combat
Michael is quite good to answer an email. He has a school email address and during the week, a message to that address will get a pretty much instant response as even a dull email from me appears to trump what might be going on in class. Again, I have to question the school’s iPad policy.
Me to Michael forwarding on an email from the school: See attached re updated school uniform policy and the school coat [Image and details of school coat attached].
Michael: Are they still trying to flog that useless wafer masquerading as a coat? [He feels the cold].
Me: I see on reading the policy that it is obligatory for all classes next year except sixth years, so you’re exempt.
Him: One struggle across all classes.
Summer Plans
A couple of years ago, an Italian friend of Mr. Waffle’s asked whether we would be interested in doing an exchange with her nephew in Rome and one of our sons in Dublin. Covid put paid to the original plan but now it is back and Daniel is going to Rome for a week and we’ll have an Italian teenager here.
I was a bit worried about Daniel flying on his own. I anxiously asked him whether he thought he would be ok and he pointed out to me that he had already flown to Paris on his own a number of years ago which, I confess, I had forgotten. He flew as an unaccompanied minor though so was thoughtfully shuttled about by a bored airline employee. Mr. Waffle is adamant that the humiliation of flying aged 16 as an unaccompanied minor (they have to wear a special label around their necks; they are herded together and most of them are under 12) would be the death of Daniel and that he will be perfectly fine on his own. He suggested that if I am concerned I could adopt his own mother’s technique of approaching someone I like the look of in the check-in queue and asking him or her to keep an eye on my child. More mortifying surely? Your views would be welcome on this issue which is the subject of animated domestic discussion. I am forced to point out that Daniel himself thinks he would be fine.
Daniel doesn’t speak any Italian but he is game for the trip to Rome and I do hope he will enjoy it. I lived in Rome for a while in my early 20s and absolutely loved it. I really feel for my children who have had so many of the normal teenage fun things denied to them but have had all of the angst and then some. Michael has astounded me by announcing that he wants to go on a school trip to Brussels to visit the European institutions. Under normal circumstances, he is not one for travel but the lure of a trip to the European institutions was too much for him to resist. I am not even joking.
Last night we told herself that the day she returns from England and Italian teenager will be arriving to stay with us. She is already a bit tetchy in the run up to her exams and I wouldn’t say this piece of information improved her mood. “I wouldn’t have come home at all had I known that there were to be Italian teenage boys or indeed teenage boys of any nationality in the house,” she announced imperiously. As her own brothers who live here are teenage boys that was always a pretty lofty aspiration, nonetheless, my hopes that she might entertain the Italian teenager (who will be 18 in August so possibly a bit old for Dan) were definitely delivered a blow. She’s hoping to go to Paris for a bit of the summer and if she does I fully plan to visit. Let us hope this will be welcome news in due course.
I have had to delay my year of rest and relaxation by a week or so due to an upcoming work crisis which my boss begged me to stay for. I am not immune to flattery (on the contrary) but given that I am counting the days extra time – and stressful extra time at that – seems a bit tedious. I will now be finishing on June 17 and I cannot wait. On the 20th I am off to England to collect herself staying with friends in England en route. I am thrilled.
