belgianwaffle

Pandemic Rereading

8 September, 2020
Posted in: Reading etc.

I tweeted a picture of all the Georgette Heyers in the house a couple of years ago.

All the Georgette Heyers in my house ?@georgettedaily? pic.twitter.com/ysPaoxKuda
— Anne (@Belgianwaffle) December 23, 2018

I have considerably increased my stock since then.

These books come from a range of sources:

A lot of them are old editions from the 50s and 60s that come from my parents’ house. Though I have already rescued many of these, there are still more.
Some of them I bought myself before my parents’ copies became mine.
Many of them came from a friend of my parents who handed them over before she died (a delightful woman, she was the aunt of a famous Cork actress and I often point to the Waterford Crystal bowl she – my parents’ friend – gave Mr. Waffle and me when we got married which sits on our mantelpiece any say to the children “Harry Potter’s Aunt Petunia’s aunt gave that to us” to universal indifference).
One was a really thoughtful present – a first edition given to me by a friend in Brussels many years ago.
A further six (yes, six) hard cover first editions were given to me for my 50th birthday by one of my bookclubs.

So, I’m going to talk about them all and if you are not a Georgette Heyer fan, you’re probably best off turning away now. Like Stella Gibbons in “Cold Comfort Farm”, I’m going to asterix the ones I think are best.

** “Arabella” is a lovely not quite rags to riches story. It was one of my mother’s favourites and I am very fond of it myself. I love how Arabella’s family who largely don’t feature in the book are so elaborately and lovingly drawn in the first few chapters. There are some wonderful set pieces involving Arabella’s well developed sense of justice.

I am not a massive fan of “Bath Tangle”. I will read it, if I’ve read all the others too often but I find the heroine a pain which is never great. I have three copies of it all the same (one of them a first edition), just to be on the safe side.

“The Black Moth” is pretty dire. Famously, it’s her first book written when she was 18 to amuse her convalescent brother (I say famously as this is inside most of the books in the about the author bit, so only famously for a certain value of famously). As a rule, any of the books that features characters saying, “‘Pon rep” are not a good bet. Free tip for you right there.

“Black Sheep” is another one set in Bath and I just don’t seem to really go for Bath ones though they have given me an abiding wish to visit Bath, as yet unrealised.

“Charity Girl” is ok. The title character is a bit mawkish (as Georgette herself would say) but her con artist father is worth the price of admission.

**”A Civil Contract” is one of my own favourites. It’s about an avowed marriage of convenience and how the parties get on. There are some great characters including the hero’s first love who is hilariously dreadful and his mother who is unbearable.

“The Conqueror” is just dreadful and I retain it for completeness only. I read it many years ago and I can’t face re-reading. It’s historical, about William the Conqueror and unreadably awful. Worse even than “Beauvallet” which I haven’t read since I was a teenager.

“The Convenient Marriage” isn’t bad but not quite as good as it might be. It’s one of the few set almost entirely inside a marriage.

“The Corinthian” is not one I particularly like. Pen is an annoying heroine and acts her age which is, if I recall correctly, about 17. On the other hand, it is a regency romance, so that’s something.

**”Cotillion” is one of my favourites, possibly my favourite. The slightly gormless guy gets the girl and it is enjoyable and full of fun. The father of the hero is a consistently entertaining bit player and there are loads of great characters. A real ensemble effort with a great cast of characters. I have four copies including a first edition.

“Cousin Kate” has an over elaborate an slightly gothic plot line involving madness and murder which does not appeal to me but, you know, it’s grand.

“Devil’s Cub” is one of the few sequels she wrote (it’s a sequel to “These Old Shades” which was very popular). I don’t love it. I didn’t love “These Old Shades” and felt no particular joy in being reunited with these characters which is at least part of the charm. But I’ve re-read it. More than once.

**I love “False Colours”. I am beginning to realise, as I write this, that I like best the ones with a great ensemble cast. This one has that. It’s about twins who swap places and as well as the hero and heroine, whom I like, features an elderly dandy, a former mistress and a miserly uncle all of whom are quite funny.

“Faro’s Daughter” is alright. It features a rather annoying Irish sidekick who says “me darlin'” a lot and that tends to annoy.

*”Frederica” is a classic with loads of great characters. I find Frederica herself a bit irritating from time to time but overall it’s a lovely book.

*”Friday’s Child” is one I do quite like with some fantastically entertaining characters including the dastardly Sir Montagu Revesby who gets his comeuppance and cousin Ferdy who is dim but charming but I always had a reservation about this one because Sherry is always threatening to box Kitten’s ears (also very stupid nickname) and I am not sure the domestic violence trope has aged as well as it might.

**”The Foundling” is a favourite of mine – not really a romance, just a coming of age story about a charming if unsure hero. The romance is incidental. It features an inept but entertaining villain.

*”The Grand Sophy” is many people’s favourite Georgette Heyer and was mine until I made a college boyfriend read it. “It’s alright except for the anti-antisemitism in the middle,” he said. Once seen, cannot be unseen.

“Lady of Quality” is another dull Bath epic. Only alright, if you ask me.

**I reread “The Nonesuch” very recently but I can’t find my copy anywhere. Ominous. I thought I might never read it again. We had it in the cabinet in my mother’s nursing home and I used to read it to her when I visited. Partly for her, partly for me. We both loved the heiress Tiffany Wield; bold as brass and inclined to tantrums. I was so sad after my mother died that I thought I might never read it again but I did.

“Pistols for Two” is a book of short stories. They are pretty deftly done and a good introduction to her style. Some are better than others and the title story is probably the best.

“The Quiet Gentleman” features a practical and enjoyable heroine but the murder mystery aspect is not for me.

“Regency Buck” is only alright. I would not recommend it but I have read it a couple of times.

“The Reluctant Widow” has a special place in my affections as it’s the first Georgette Heyer book I ever read. It’s not very good but I was not, it appears, a very discerning 13 year old. I still remember my complete shock that the heroine marries the hero. “But she didn’t even like him,” I thought on my first introduction to a not uncommon romantic trope.

“Sprig Muslin” is a bit idiotic. It’s about a runaway who an older man protects which finally leads him to appreciate his fiancÃ©e’s true worth. Alright at best.

“Sylvester” is not for me, I fear. The hero has weird eyebrows and that’s probably the most interesting bit. The plot involves kidnap and is needlessly convoluted.

“The Talisman Ring” is set pre-Regency period and like anything of hers outside her best era, is poor. The heroine is deeply irritating.

“These Old Shades” is alright. I used to like it better when I was younger. It’s outside the Regency period and, as ever, these are just not as good, in my view.

“The Toll Gate” is another one that is more detective than romance but I have a bit of a soft spot for it as I have a lovely first edition and neither the hero nor heroine is irritating.

**”The Unknown Ajax” is such a favourite of mine. I have read it more times than I can say. It made me keen to visit Rye (it’s set nearby) which is, incidentally, well worth a visit. The hero is a delight, the heroine is great and all the bit characters are richly rewarding. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

*”Venetia” is reasonably good. The story is a bit unlikely but the heroine is engaging and things really pick up when her new sister-in-law and her mother turn up at the house.

I also re-read a fair bit of Terry Pratchett whose Discworld books I find appealing and undemanding which is ideal for a pandemic.

I listened to all the Harry Potter books on audio walking around the block at lunchtime. It was a lengthy commitment but I quite enjoyed it. I find some aspects of the books a bit disturbing now. I mean house elves and their weird speaking patterns and enjoying being enslaved? What exactly is that about?

I also re-read all the Hercule Poirot short stories. I must say, I thought they held up pretty well. A much better read than I remembered.

It’s not quite re-reading but Mr. Waffle got me a subscription to Slightly Foxed for my birthday which is a quarterly publication which has essays on older books which have fallen out of favour or are not widely known and I found it a real pleasure to read. Unlike the London Review of Books which was, frankly, anxiety inducing it’s undemanding and comes infrequently. I love it. They’ve also got a wonderful monthly podcast.

I gave up my intensive re-reading on my summer holidays. Probably for the best but the publications above took me through the early phases of the pandemic and I can only say that I am grateful for old favourites.

Getting a Bit Closer

6 September, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Dublin, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess

Monday, August 31, 2020

Herself went back to school. It was alright. She is not loving the new uniform.

I discovered that some more people I knew were having Covid tests and having been exposed to them – even though their doctor said it was fine – I thought I should possibly stay away from other people to the extent possible.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Back working from home. Absolutely dire. Just does not suit me. Conference called in to a meeting at work where others were physically there and it is a nightmare particularly since my head was in super large high definition telly. Snapped at the poor children who tried to talk to their mother.

I was pleased to see herself had invited some friends back and they were out in the garden social distancing dutifully. They all hate the new uniform.

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

It was lashing rain this morning. Herself insisted on cycling to school because she wanted to be able to cycle home so that she would be back in time to do a practice interview. She’s doing an interview for an arts organisation – they want to get closer to young people so they had a competition open to secondary students. Prize is interviewing an artist. She has done a lot of preparation and, in fairness, the arts body has taken it pretty seriously too.

Daniel and Michael are both working in (separate) charity shops every Wednesday afternoon as part of their Transition Year work experience. It was so strange seeing them off to what were, effectively, their first jobs. They were both a bit nervous. It seemed to go fine though; they both seem to have spent a fair bit of time organising DVDs. Daniel got to spend time on the till though so that was exciting. He said that all of the customers were young alternative fashion types like his sister or old women. “Which did you prefer?” I asked. Definitely the young women. Apparently, they come up quietly to the counter and hand over their money but the old women insist on trying things on in the corner of the shop ignoring the fact that the changing room is closed for Covid and mortifying him.

Rain poured in through the roof of the utility room. Alas. We are definitely going to do work on it but at the same time, it can’t be left leaking for the next 12 months. Mr. Waffle is going to call a roofer. Oh dear.

And in the good news ledger, one negative Covid test notification. Just waiting for confirmation of a second person as negative and I can return to the office. I am surprised how much this fills me with joy.

Thursday, September 3, 2020

The boys went back to school for a couple of hours for Covid induction. There was some confusion about whether they could continue in their charity jobs or not but in the end, it was approved and they are quite pleased.

Another negative Covid test and I am cleared to go back into the office. Delighted with myself.

As ever at this time, the apple situation is critical.

Three apple trees is at least two too many.

I have made several apple tarts, herself made a very elaborate one this evening, heavily dependent on apples. We spent what felt like hours peeling.

But worth it.

Friday, September 4, 2020

I went in to the office (met loads of councillors on a site visit to the filtered permeability i.e. bollards at the end of the road – confirmed my enthusiastic support) the children went to school. Even Mr. Waffle went out for a while. This was naturally the cue for various deliveries to be made which we were then not at home to receive. I picked them up from the post office later and got sternly lectured about the quality of the envelopes that the senders were using. I got into our local library for the first time since lockdown. They’ve reorganised a bit and it’s all self-service now but nice to be back.

For film night we had “Sully”. It’s about that plane that landed on the Hudson. It’s directed by Clint Eastwood and I thought it had a very old fashioned view of men and women. Men were calm, brave and pretty much emotion free and women were incidental bit characters. Wasn’t a great film either, a bit episodic.

Saturday, September 5, 2020

The apple crisis continues unabated. I have made apple jelly. Apple chutney is in my future. You need a lot of apples to make a small quantity of apple jelly. Great news.

Mr. Waffle and I cycled into town for a wander around. It was grand and busy I thought. We had a cup of tea and a bun in the newly reopened Bewley’s cafe. Gratifying. We sat beside the Harry Clarke window and admired dutifully. Some of his stuff can be strange as well as beautiful.

Sunday, September 6, 2020

We didn’t get up to much. We forced the boys out on a lovely cycle through the park (now, sadly, reopened to cars) which they enjoyed about as much as you might expect.

And how is your own new normal going?

Re-entry

1 September, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Work

Thursday, August 20, 2020

It was the last day of my holidays. Mr. Waffle and I went out for breakfast. Our regular handyman came to the house to do various small jobs (he has finally accepted that our DIY capacities are rock bottom). I discovered the hard way that our local library now closes at 4. Herself is a bit gloomy about teenage parties she has dutifully not gone to but pictures of which fill her social media feeds.

Friday, August 21, 2020

Back to work for a half day. The advantage of working while on holidays is, I suppose, that the inbox isn’t too overwhelming on return. Scant comfort really. Mr. Waffle and I went out to a local cafe for a cup of tea and the waitress said, “Didn’t you used to go to the Pain Quotidien in town? I remember you because of the Earl Grey.” Sadly, it appears that the Dublin PQ has closed permanently. I have to tell you this is not the first time I have been recognised by someone in a cafe in these circumstances. I think I am known as “Earl Grey” lady all over Dublin.

We had our first cinema night in a while and Daniel chose “Coach Carter” which I would never have watched otherwise but we all found quite enjoyable. I think cinema night might survive even when Covid ends.

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Much of the day was spent in a vain hunt for grey school trousers for a child who is both tall and very skinny. Then we were going to a friend’s house for dinner but she got a cold and on the better safe than sorry principle she suggested that we put it back a week in case it was the dreaded Covid. Alas.

Sunday, August 23, 2020

I had an almost normal afternoon in town. I went to the shops, I had a wander round the art gallery. It was quite lovely.

Monday, August 24, 2020

The full immersive return to work experience. Could have been worse, I suppose.

The applied maths teacher has got a job in Galway. Herself was doing it outside school so it’s a bit hard to see how we are going to find someone else to deliver the course to her in Irish. The teacher called the students and said that he doesn’t want to leave them in the lurch so promised to drive up from Galway every weekend so that he can cover the course with her and the three other students who are doing it outside school. Which is pretty decent but I wonder will it be feasible?

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

We got news from the school that one of the children’s teachers had died. We were all a bit shocked. She hadn’t been unwell as far as we knew. She was about 60 I’d say and a big smoker so I do wonder whether it might have been Covid. No one can go to the funeral, of course.

Wednesday, August 26, 2020

There was a picture in the paper of first years in school with masks with the school crest on them. It felt a bit dystopian and I was pretty gloomy. Herself was concerned that her own school might follow them on the uniform/mask front as she has some pretty exciting masks that she is keen to try out in school which she believes that, based on current policy, the uniform police will be powerless to resist.

And this back to school kit in the window of the chemist’s is a bit miserable as well.

And then the latest road map is a bit off-putting.

Still on the plus side, I visited the Asia Market (enormous place on Drury Street cunningly concealed by falsely tiny looking shop front) which I found full of interesting if baffling produce and herself made dinner again.

Thursday, August 27, 2020

The children were all going back to the primary school at the end of the road. It was lovely to see them heading in on their flotilla of bikes and scooters.

Mr. Waffle mentioned to our butcher that he had seen a Northern Irish van with his name on it and was it any relation? It was his first cousin who has a butcher’s shop in Portrush. Our own butcher’s father was from Derry and his mother from the Glens of Antrim. He was born in Derry but they moved down south when he was three. Fancy that.

Michael’s school trousers which I had ordered online arrived. A perfect fit but black instead of regulation gray. Weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Friday, August 28, 2020

God, I was soaked on the cycle into work. I squelched around the building with wet feet all morning. I was on the phone to a colleague and we spent about 2 minutes dealing with a work issue and a further 20 moaning about how grim it all is. He won because he lives in Kildare and is still in lock down with his two primary age children.

I’ve been re-reading a great diary anthology this year. A lot of the diaries are from World War II and as you read them you can see how heavily it weighs on people that they have no idea how or when it will end. As a modern reader you’re thinking, June 1943, only two years to go but they have no idea. It’s strange to me writing this to find myself in a slightly similar situation with Covid – not knowing when or if it will end and finding that pretty wearing.

I returned Michael’s trousers to Marks and Spencer but none in his size available in the shop or online or in Dunnes. The school authorities will kill us if we can’t unearth a pair. Finally got trousers in a specialist uniform shop. They should be made from raw silk at the cost of them. They are not.

The school has made changes to the uniform this year and herself has complained about this quite a bit. She tried it on for us to inspect. Her complaints are warranted. It’s awful. Only one more year, I suppose.

Michael chose the remake of “Total Recall” for cinema night. Poor Michael, it was our first total dud. Quite dreadful.

Saturday, August 29, 2020

I spent most of the afternoon taming the garden as a kind of displacement activity. I did not complete the work task I had set myself. Alas. The garden looks amazing though.

Mr. Waffle and I went out to dinner to a friend’s house. Very thrilling and most enjoyable.

Sunday, August 30, 2020

We had the cousins over. We were able to sit in my newly hacked back garden. Time well spent.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 4 – Munster

30 August, 2020
Posted in: Cork, Family, Ireland, Mr. Waffle

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

I contemplated driving to Cork but I just couldn’t face it after driving up from Connemara the previous day so, rather daringly, I took the train for the first time since lock down started at the end of March.

Everyone was wearing a mask including me. It felt so uncomfortable for three hours on the train. And, obviously, no tea trolley. I should really have predicted that.

The voyage passed off uneventfully and I had brought my bike on the train so cycled up to my parents’ house from the station. It was a beautiful sunny day and quite a nice cycle. I stopped off in the market to pick up the wherewithal to make myself a sandwich and it was all very pleasant and holiday like.

It was lovely to see my father who looked better than when I had seen him last and was gratifyingly pleased to see me. After a couple of hours chatting to him, I went to look up something on my phone. Could I find it? I could not. I walked down the road to see if it could have fallen out of my pocket while cycling. I couldn’t see it. I called Mr. Waffle on the landline to tell him the news – he asked whether I had taken his house keys to Cork. I had not but in that mistaken belief, he and Daniel had to take a taxi to GAA training. His keys turned up later. I decided I’d better ring the Guards and see whether anyone had found it. My father’s habit of typing up important numbers and taping them to the inside of his diary came into its own as I found myself wondering how I would work out the Garda station phone number without a phone. I reflected on all the things that would be gone – all my holiday photos, my contacts, my notes, the general awkwardness. I rang my number one last time on the off chance and, hallelujah, it was answered. A woman from up the road had found it when she was cycling home and taken it to safety. I was grateful. It’s slightly weird how discombobulated I felt without it.

Meanwhile the nation went backwards on Covid and we were told that we could only have 6 people indoors and that we should avoid public transport. I was quite grateful the announcement was made after my train journey as otherwise I would have felt obliged to take the car, I think.

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

I got myself up early and went into the Crawford gallery for a look at the pictures and, rejoice, the cafe had reopened so I had a delightful breakfast also. Holiday thrills. Although it did lash rain.

I dropped in to see my 91 year old aunt who was pleased to see me. These days I keep asking my father and aunt slightly odd questions about their lives on the basis that they won’t be around forever. I wondered what my aunt had called her mother, my granny. Was it Mum, Mam, Mama perhaps? “Muddy boots,” she said firmly. She is a little deaf, so I tried again. She stuck with “Muddy boots”. On investigation, short for mother apparently. My family are so odd.

I got the train back to Dublin that evening. It’s funny how quickly you get used to things. I’d found the mask awful on the way down but I barely noticed it on the way back to Dublin.

And that was largely that for my four provinces tour. I appreciate Leinster and Munster didn’t get the same treatment as Ulster and Connaught but I did do the four corners of the country. Herself says I should call this diary of a super spreader. Oh how we laughed. Hope your own holidays went well also.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 3 – Leinster

29 August, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Travel

Monday, August 17, 2020

We had intended to stop for lunch at an appealing cafe but sadly it was closed down indefinitely. We limped around the back roads hunting for an alternative. We passed by Clonmacnoise , like literally passed the front gate of Ireland’s most famous monastic settlement which it transpired none of my children had ever heard of but, happily for them, it was closed. Offaly was in local lockdown and this included the local heritage sites.

We pushed on past plague country and into Westmeath which was open. I thought Moate might be nice. I don’t want to be unfair to Moate and nowhere is at its best in driving rain but I thought it was a grim enough spot. Almost all the cafes were closed Mondays but we eventually got lunch in a vile little deli and sat outside on the side of the road in the rain eating it. Unlovely.

We were home a little over an hour later. There was endless souvenir unpacking – my tea towel needs are met for a life time. You may admire a sample staged for your delectation along with the made in China ewer.

The cat was quite peeved with us but relented eventually. The marmalade we had bought as part of a present package for the neighbours to thank them for minding the cat leaked with predictably disastrous results.

I had another couple of days off and I decided to go down to Cork and visit my father the following day.

The Four Provinces Tour: Part 2 – Connaught

28 August, 2020
Posted in: Boys, Daniel, Ireland, Michael, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Sunday, August 9, 2020 – continued

We drove over the Donegal county bounds into Sligo and I discovered that we would be going really close to W.B. Yeats’s grave, so we stopped for a look despite some consumer resistance. It’s a very beautiful graveyard with a lovely view over Benbulbin. The children were, nonetheless, broadly underwhelmed. “Those dying generations at their song” eh?

Our airbnb host in Mayo messaged to ask whether we needed a cot. Herself suggested that I reply “No, as I am the shortest member of the family and I am 51.” Oh very funny.

Eventually after our very long drive, we arrived in our accommodation about 6. I was attracted to the place when I saw it because the view was so beautiful but Mr. Waffle was a bit reluctant as it was spartan inside. We compromised by deciding to stay for a few days only before going further west.

The view was entirely as advertised.

It was in the Gaeltacht (Irish speaking part of Ireland) and our hosts spoke to us in Irish which was rather nice. I could tell that the mother was a teacher as when I said that we were staying after in Galway and forgot the sÃ©imhiÃº (alas) she said patiently, “I n…”. The house itself was very old fashioned. It had belonged to the grandparents of the current owners – a brother and sister in college – and they decided to let it out on airbnb. Their mother, in Irish mother fashion was the person most on top of the logistics though. Herself and the daughter let us in with masks on. She soon took over from the daughter in explaining the house’s quirks. It was a bit old fashioned but it was clean and fine really. As I unpacked in the bedroom, the smell and the atmosphere reminded me of older country relatives’ houses that I had visited growing up and I thought all that’s missing really is the sacred heart on the wall and I turned around and there he was looking benignly down on the bed.

My saintly first born agreed to make dinner as her father and I were exhausted. After dinner we sat out for a bit looking up at the stars and catching glimpses of the bats swooping about.

Monday, August 10, 2020

After our epic trek from Derry the previous day, we didn’t feel up to much. I spent a good while looking at the view. The weather was beautiful. I settled myself down and finished off Queen Mary. After 622 pages it was like saying farewell to an old friend.

We carried out a raid on the Centra in Clonbur which left a bit to be desired but better than nothing. Herself came with me as she, yet again, had agreed to cook dinner. She made burritos, possibly the most successful dinner of the holiday.

In the afternoon I persuaded Mr. Waffle and Daniel to come swimming with me in Loch na Fooey.

It was cold but I’ve had colder. I pointed out to Dan that we were actually swimming in “Les lacs du Connemara” but he remained unmoved. “Only one lac,” says he.

Afterwards we drove in to Leenane a small town on Killary Fjord. Ireland’s only fjord. The thrills keep coming.

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

I thought after my investigations the previous day, that Leenane might provide a satisfactory breakfast so Mr. Waffle, herself and myself went to explore. Not entirely satisfactory but not bad either.

The roads were full of sheep which treated cars with complete indifference. My city child was keen to get up close with a mountain sheep but as soon as she hopped out of the car, they scattered to the four winds in alarm.

In the afternoon I persuaded everyone out to Loch na Fooey for a swim. Everyone swam except Michael who sat on the beach reading his book with his coat on so not a 100% success rate but look, you can’t have everything. He was resigned to his fate in going to the lake and being forced to look at scenery but wild horses weren’t going to drag him into the boggy lake water.

Leaving the children back to the house, Mr. Waffle and I went into Cong to inspect the former abbey and sample the delights of the town. Fine, you know, but seen one ruined abbey, you’ve seen them all; this was certainly the strong view of the children.

The film “The Quiet Man” was filmed there in the 50s and the town is still very proud of this. There was, inter alia, a plaque on a bar unveiled by Des McHale sometime UCC prof of maths; author of the Kerryman joke books; father of the Guard in “The Young Offenders”; and, it transpires, author of a book on “The Quiet Man”. His daughter is a friend of my sister’s and she confirmed that he is originally from Mayo which possibly explains his interest.

We ran into a former colleague of mine. She was with her husband and children. She explained that only two of the three were hers. We chatted about Corona virus. Wouldn’t you hate to be from Kildare, Laois or Offaly gone back into lockdown? One of the children piped up, “Hey, I’m from Kildare!” “Shh,” we said as one and my mortified former colleague hastened to assure me that the child had left Kildare before lock down was announced.

We came home and watched the sun go down from the front door.

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

It was probably the hottest day of the year. Mr. Waffle expressed a desire to walk up the mountain and see the deserted village. I insisted that we all go. Daniel, however, had a sore foot so was invalided out and I decided to stay with him. The other three had a wonderful walk which two of them very much enjoyed and one tolerated. Apparently there were spectacular views. Still Daniel and I sat in the garden in the shade of the hedge, reading our books and looking out over the lake and, I have to say, that wasn’t bad either.

We tried to go and see a sheepdog demonstration (herself became fascinated by sheep) but the farmer said that unfortunately, he had to take his wife to hospital; I contacted our accommodation in Clifden where we were going that evening and the owner said someone would meet me but she had to take her newborn to hospital; finally I contacted our hosts about checking out of our accommodation in Mayo and the owner was in hospital getting eye surgery. I felt like I was some kind of disaster maelstrom. Probably not though. Anyway, the owner’s Mammy came across the field to check us out and said he was fine really – it was only laser eye surgery – and not to worry about him.

On this cheering note, we took ourselves to Clifden about an hour away, on the coast where we would be staying until the following Monday.

When we were booking accommodation for this holiday, it was a bit thin on the ground and we ended up renting this apartment in Clifden that was much too big for us. It had, 6 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, two reception rooms, a kitchen and a dining room. Though no dishwasher regrettably. The children each had a television and they were thrilled. I had hoped that perhaps my sister might be able to join us for the weekend and use up some of the space but, alas, it was not to be.

Leaving the children to bond with the excitement that was the enormous flat, Mr. Waffle and I walked into town. Clifden reminded me a bit of Dingle. It was clearly a tourist town heaving with people from Dublin (including ourselves, I suppose) and prices were quite Dublin like as well. It was not what I would call undiscovered.

We went out for dinner and when we came home it was to discover that the extended family group from downstairs were having a party. Good voices, in fairness, but unappealing at 3 in the morning.

Thursday, August 13, 2020

Herself spent the morning watching the Covid committee on Oireachtas TV. Unclear what to say to this; my child has unusual tastes. Mr. Waffle and myself went into town and visited the library: not bad at all. Opened at a time when there were many French tourists in the area, I assume.

We picked up some shopping in the excellent supermarket (a bit notiony but dammit, I like notiony) and had a wander around town and all in all did very little all day. I saw a copy of a biography of Queen Adelaide in a second-hand book shop and picked it up as my new area of specialised interest appears to be lesser-known British queens consort (or queen consorts? Inquiring minds want to know, advice in the comments please).

Friday, August 14, 2020

Distressed by the indolent nature of the previous day, I forced them all out of the house and we went to Roundstone, stopping off on the way to have a look at the site where Alcock and Brown crash landed on the bog after the first non-stop crossing of the Atlantic by air. I am forced to concede that it is, well, a bit of bog. I thought Roundstone would be a bit bigger and different from how it actually was. I was worried when we got there that we would have nowhere to lunch at all but happily we were able to get sandwiches from a shop and eat them by the sea so not too bad.

We went to the beach afterwards. Gurteen beach and Dog’s Bay just outside Roundstone are the most spectacular beaches on a tombola (back to back on a peninsula). Only Daniel and I swam but it was probably my nicest swim of the summer. The water wasn’t too cold, the sun shone, the beach was breathtakingly beautiful and we had it pretty much to ourselves.

I don’t have a good photo so you’ll just have to take my word for it; on the other hand, I do have this photo of me doing a handstand in the sea so it’s not all bad.

We then had a successful, though early, dinner in Guy’s bar in Clifden (latest booking I could get was 5.30) getting us home in plenty of time for some of the party to watch Barcelona v Bayern Munich. I was fascinated and delighted by this extraordinary story of two local girls rescued from their paddle boards after 15 hours at sea.

We went to bed relatively early and I was not delighted to be woken by the carousers downstairs at 4 in the morning. We moved to a bedroom on the opposite side of the corridor and that was fine until at 8 someone downstairs started playing the guitar. Why, I mean, why? So we moved back to our original room, the 4 am crowd, understandably, showing no sign of life at 8 in the morning.

Saturday, August 15, 2020

In my ongoing attempt not to miss anything, I took those who were willing – Mr. Waffle, Daniel and myself – to Mannin beach and very nice it was too though you would want to keep your wits about you in the effort to find it. That may explain why there was almost nobody there except ourselves. That and the light drizzle.

Still, notwithstanding the rain, the water was shallow and warm and we went for a nice cup of tea and a bun in a cafe afterwards and the sun came out. The cafe was lovely and…vegan. The west of Ireland is full of vegan/vegetarian outlets. I am surprised. Herself confessed to me recently that she has gone vegan outside the home but is still only vegetarian inside because she knows if she went vegan it would tip me over the edge. She is correct. I was sorry she missed the vegan cafe though.

Proving how thoroughly middle-aged I now am, I insisted on going on a nice drive. The Sky Road loop gets a mention in the tourist books and it is well worth the trip in my view – the whole drive was only about half an hour and the views are spectacular.

Herself made dinner again. Interested parties discovered that between eating out and herself and Mr. Waffle cooking dinner, I hadn’t made dinner since leaving Dublin. Not even sorry. We played cards after dinner but it was so warm that we went outside to the courtyard. Sadly, we were then eaten alive by midges. These are not typical Irish holiday problems.

All our neighbours having left, I enjoyed my best night’s sleep since arriving in Clifden.

Sunday, August 16, 2020

I was awoken at 11 by a grass strimmer which sounded like a loud and angry mosquito but this was an acceptable improvement on being awoken at 4 in the morning. We mooched around and after lunch I announced that we would go to Kylemore Abbey. This was greeted with no great enthusiasm but we gathered ourselves up slowly. So slowly that I realised that there was a risk we would not get there before last entries at 4. On the drive there we were stuck behind a slow campervan (inappropriately named, the Rapido) and we pulled into the car park at 3.56. Mr. Waffle and the children ran to get tickets. We made it. I have to say, I wasn’t particularly keen to go in the first instance but having committed to it, I would have been bitter to have missed it.

The house is a bit of a Victorian monstrosity but the site makes it look amazing. It used to be a girls’ boarding school for years but now it’s open to the public and quite nicely done. The President and his wife turned up at the same time as us and, to be fair, aside from their own personal guide showing them around, they had no special attention and didn’t cause any disruption to other tourists – all of whom were Irish and, as such, obeyed our code that no one should ever, under any circumstances, indicate that they have recognised a well-known figure – so he was left in peace also.

We had a cup of tea in Letterfrack afterwards. “Does that name mean anything to you?” I asked the children. It did not. To me, it was nortorious, as it contained an industrial school – a sort of juvenile detention centre – which even by the standards of the time was considered harsh. I was surprised to see that it had closed as long ago as 1974.

After we had dropped the others home, herself agreed to come to the Sky Road at sunset with me if I took her to see a Marian shrine on the road which she had found intriguing. We were both quite pleased with our deal.

We then had a quiet evening in, trying to finish off all the food we had bought. Mr. Waffle found a book on Marconi (also active here where a big station was built as the first landing point for messages from America) written by another UCC academic – Mick Sexton, former elec eng prof. They were following me around along with Marconi.

Monday, August 17, 2020

We left Clifden and headed east towards Leinster. “Stay with us” as they say on my favourite podcast.