I've always felt that when Cromwell suggested 'to Hell or to Connaught!' he was uttering a tautology of sorts.
Ah, hahaha, I amuse myself.
Apologies to all Connaughites.
I've just returned from visiting the in-laws in Mayo this weekend you see. And of course I'm not suggesting that my in-laws are minions of the Dark Lord. Heavens no. Nor am I suggesting that the winding roads of the rural Ballygobeelzebub remind me of the circles of hell. No.
I just don't travel well. Nor does Baby Oubliette. She's a champion sleeper. I'm that mam at toddler groups smugly crowing about how she slept right through the night from a day old and how she still takes ten naps a day blah blah blah. Those haggard husks of sleep deprive women hate me...
But in Mayo, Baby Oub has to sleep in the ancestral cot. I'm not kidding. My children have all had a spin in the cot their very own father slept in. Impressive. But unsurprisingly, this cot has seen better days. It creaks and generally isn't up to the princess and the pea standard Baby Oub is now used to.
Invariably, she wakes up in the middle of the night. And this is a baby who doesn't wake up in the middle of the night, so she doesn't know what to do. First she cries. I try to hush her as we're in someone else's house and God forbid we disturbed anyone! Well, okay, I'm not quite so concerned about that. Its more the memory of the first time one of my children woke up in the middle of the night when visiting the in-laws and I was nearly flattened by my mother-in-law in the middle of the night as she rushed to attend to my child.
So, I picked up the little munchkin, and in a technicolour example of the triumph of hope over experience, take her into the bed with us. Sigh. As I said she just doesn't know what to do when woken up - so she lies down to go to sleep with us. But a minute later, moves to another spot. Then two minutes later moves again. Continue for two hours. They're using this technique quite successfully in Guantanamo I believe.
I eventually, at 6 am, chucked her back into the crib/relic and despite a few screeches of protest, she gave up the struggle and went back to sleep.
This has happened every time we have visited the west in the past year.
Bad enough I'm not in my own home. Bad enough my children are being spoilt to within an inch of their lives (oh, the beatings that have to happen once we get to Dublin to remind the children they are not little emperors). Bad enough I have to hear about what happened to Maura, you know Maura? She lives over behind the Kelly's, married to Joe McMurphy? She worked with Aine? You know Aine? She's married to your cousin Jack O'Malley? Bad enough that its raining. Bad enough that...
But I spend the entire visit exhausted and grumpy as hell. It's not my best look.
I just know that when we leave, they tut and shake their heads. 'Why couldn't he have married a nice country girl?'
Worst bit of all?
I never did find out what Maura did. You know Maura?She lives over behind the Kelly's, married to Joe McMurphy?
She worked with Aine?
You know Aine?
She's married to your
cousin Jack
O'Malley?...........................
10 comments:
Just a lovely, lovely read. For those not experiencing it, of course.
I imagine it has got a sort of positive, 'thank Christ it wasn't me' effect :)
It's going to take me weeks to recover...
It was just terrible what happened to Maura, especially after that thing with the Kelly's last year, just terrible.
Oh no, now I was shocked by that, especially when Aine gave me the inside track... poor Maura
I always knew Maura was different, but, you don't expect it do you?
Well, Maura's family, you know. There was that thing, with the Kellys, and then Mrs Roche, you know Mrs Roche? She runs the drapery? She's your mother's second cousin, twice removed.... well, Mrs Roche told me that Fr Murtaigh was told by a concerned parishioner - it might have been Séamy O'Reilly - that Maura's older brother, Sean óg, was seen with Fidelma Kelly, but we all know Fidelma is the town bike, But he told Fr that it was all a front becuase Sean Og was more likely to be interested in Felim Kelly, if you get me. So, Maura, doesn't know what to do with herself becuase wasn't she doing a line with Feilm herself, until all those rumours last year. She'd put on a fair bit of weight... but it turns out it was just an addiction to chocolate Kimberlys... By that stage though Felim had moved onto Margaret, Maura's bold as brass little sister, and would you believe it, Maura ends up in the arms of Fidelma Kelly!!
Only to find out Fidelma was expecting Joe's child, and Joe (McMurphy) and Maura trying for years... and for her to find out the way she did...
Anyway that Séamy O'Reilly would do better to stick to his knitting!
Cromwell, a surprise choice for Mayo, has the ball, he's flying up the field ,in come Padraic Joyce and Michael Meehan at great pace in a sandwiching scissor movement, be jaysus they have ripped the head 'o' Cromwell clean off and Padraic Joyce is soloing it up the field, he's honing in on goal, he lashes Ollie's head into the back of the net.It's a tremendeeeous goal!There's blood and hair and warts everywhere, the ref doesn't look too happy as the Mayo physio tapes Cromwell's head back on, "FFS lads would ye put it on the right way around" Yes, the ref has a word with Joyce and Meehan any more o that and they'll be ticked.
Jaysus, Niamh, I know!!!
TFE = Wow, veritable love child of Michael Muircheartaigh!
Ah, Glimmer, what we do for family :)
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