Mr. Waffle has put herself on his credit card for emergencies. To activate the card so that she could book her flight home for Christmas she had to use it in a shop. Mr. Waffle told her to buy herself breakfast. He fondly imagined that she would spend a fiver on a cup of tea and some toast in a greasy spoon. When he got the bill, he discovered she’d spent £28 in the Pain Quotidien. Truly, she is her mother’s daughter.
Change and Decay
My Monday night book club is more than 20 years old. People have dropped in and out over the years. I was off in Brussels myself for 5 years. Shortly before I went away, we got a new member. A friend of a friend. I didn’t really get to know her as I was off in Brussels for most of her tenure and by the time I came back, she’d married an Austrian and moved to Austria.
I remember visiting her once in her family home in the midlands accompanied by my friend. I remember it because they lived in an actual castle, a mock gothic 19th century castle. Freezing, naturally. And as well as being a very nice woman she was also very beautiful and she looked slightly otherworldly standing in the door of her castle welcoming us in (though wearing a warm woolly jumper rather than a diaphanous dress which would have been more in keeping as it was, as indicated above, freezing). She died at the weekend. She had cancer. She was only in her early 50s. I have been rejoicing recently in the many successes of my book club friends. That’s middle age for you. So is this, I suppose.
When my father died, one of his friends wrote to me; a lovely letter with a long description of his friendship with my father in their early university years, nearly 80 years ago. He is almost the last of my father’s circle of friends left alive. He’s in his mid-90s and is in reasonably good nick. His wife died at the weekend. She was in her 80s and had been ill. I feel very sad for him. He has two sons whom he adores and grandchildren too but I’m not sure how long he will last without his wife of more than 50 years.
I’m going to the funeral on Wednesday with my sister. More gloomy updates to follow, doubtless.
Sunday
Today is the feast day of St. Laurence O’Toole, patron saint of Dublin. We heard a lot about him in mass this morning. This made me think that it might have been amusing to have named the boys Fionn and Barra in a Cork tribute. They were not amused by this hilarious suggestion. Sometimes I feel I am “wasting my sweetness on the desert air”.
I went off to visit the Museum of Literature in the afternoon. I’ve heard mixed reviews. I thought it was interesting enough – though a bit pricey at a tenner in. A bit too much Joyce and UCD for me notwithstanding the quote below which I enjoyed.
And a great Brendan Behan quote too (though I was confused by the 1997 date for the quote as he died in 1964 – I mean was this live reporting from the underworld? – but on googling this quote seems to have been from a collection of his columns published in 1997).
I’m glad that I’ve listened to the Ulysses audiobook in preparation for the hundredth anniversary of its publication next February because the city is going to go crazy.
All the Christmas lights are up and town is full of people. Are we due another “meaningful Christmas”? I’m not sure I’m able for that.
The weather continues unseasonably mild. We tried to turn on the Aga yesterday but couldn’t get the wretched thing to light. As I fiddled with the pilot light, Mr. Waffle hovered in the background saying, “Swim, little polar bears, swim!” I sometimes feel he is not a fan. I see from the manual that it needs to be serviced regularly so perhaps a man can come and service it and get it lit as well. For the moment, it’s probably as well that we didn’t light it because we would bake.
In other news, herself continues to have the time of her life in England where all her vegan food needs are met. She is off to Paris for the weekend with a friend in a couple of weeks. And then skiing in December although she may sell her skiing tickets and go to a friend’s house instead with a group from college. “In December, what will her parents say?” I said, moved to sympathy by the thought of a bunch of college students descending upon them in the run up to Christmas. “I think if we stay in the east wing, we won’t bother them,” she said. Impossible to know whether she is joking or not. It is a far cry from my own college experience where the odd weekend in Kerry was the height of excitement available. Is she doing any work? I think so. Excitingly, the last trip she has booked is home to us on December 15. Very thrilling.
More Rugby Than You Were Expecting
Update on yesterday. The latest I could change the train with my flexible ticket was one hour before departure. At 15.55, I reluctantly changed my booking to January. At 16.07, my Covid test result came in. Negative, I’m pleased to report. Mr. Waffle and I leapt into the car. The traffic was awful. I intended to buy a last minute ticket in the station to hell with the expense. But the traffic wasn’t moving. And I looked at the train website and it turns out that due to Covid all intercity trains now have to be pre-booked (whatever happened to good old booked?) and you can’t buy tickets in the station any more. And the next train I could book online was 6 which would get me into Cork too late for dinner at 8. Alas alack. We turned around and went home.
Later that evening Daniel’s test came in negative too. And today I am much, much better though not in Cork.
I see the Dutch are closing all their bars and restaurants in the evening and bringing back masks and social distancing. It did feel very normal when we were there but I see that a surge in cases is the price of normal as the public health doctors keep pointing out in their Cassandra-like way.
I had a quiet day as did Michael (who is currently working his way through “Eminent Victorians” having finished his 1,000 page scifi short story compendium -he has eclectic tastes) but Mr. Waffle and Dan had a day filled with excitement. My brother had got them tickets to the rugby match: Ireland v New Zealand. Due to my brother’s slightly last minute organisational style, it was unclear whether he would arrive in Dublin at 10 or 12 or 3 and whether they would meet him before, after or during the match (they met him during and after, in case you were wondering). Daniel wore his Leinster top to the match on the basis that almost all of the team bar a couple are from Leinster (a sore point for the Munster people, obviously – Cork is in Munster, Dublin is in Leinster, in case there is any confusion on this point).
Anyway, miraculously, Ireland won. When Mr. Waffle and Dan returned from the match they were absolutely ebullient and Daniel gave me a play by play description. They had a fantastic view from their seats in the stadium and it was all tremendously exciting. I texted my brother “When Leinster beat the All Blacks” which I thought was pretty hilarious but he was not amused.
As I type, it is still unclear whether my brother will be staying the night with us or high tailing it back to Cork this evening. He likes to keep us on our toes.
We’re having a Studio Ghibli phase at the moment. Daniel went out and bought “Spirited Away” with his own money and we all loved it and this evening we watched “My neighbour Totoro” which, though aimed at a more youthful audience, was a delight. The boys had watched it when they were small and they loved it.
I trust your own Saturday was satisfactory.
Dealing with Uncertainty
Lads, still no sign of my Covid test result. I was supposed to be getting on the Cork train at 3 this afternoon to go for a birthday dinner with my sister. I’ve pushed out the booking to 5 and am checking my phone at 2 second intervals to see are the results in. It’s going really well for me. I mean, even if I have it, knowing would be better than the uncertainty.
Anyway, I feel a bit better than I did yesterday so that’s something. Hold on to your hats and prepare for exciting updates.
Sick of It
I began my day with a Covid test. I cannot recommend it as a way to start the day. It was a beautiful morning though.
I worked from home for the day which I find quite stressful. I didn’t want to spend the day coughing over colleagues and I was sick as a dog. Here is my lovely home workstation at close of business.
God, I really hope I haven’t got Covid. Daniel went for a test at lunch time. I hope he hasn’t got Covid either (he had to get a cotton swab up both nostrils – poor Dan). I now have one colleague whose whole family got it (including himself); one colleague whose wife and daughter got it; one colleague whose two sons got it and, as of this evening, another colleague whose wife has come down with it (updated to add: he got it too). Our work Christmas lunch was, predictably enough, cancelled today. There’ll be a virtual secret Santa instead. Be still my beating heart.
In other news, it’s still too warm to put on the Aga. I know, the planet thanks me.
I am about to retire to bed to recover from the vicissitudes of the day.
Send some good news.
