To say I’m a light sleeper is putting it mildly, and to say my husband is a heavy snorer is just a fact, which is why for a split second I thought about booking us two hotels rooms on a recent break
• SO my husband and I aren’t long back from a weekend away at what was our first wedding in at least a decade. It was all the way up in Mayo – a lovely spot that’s close to my heart as I spent a few years working there in my 20s. I’d visit a lot more often if it wasn’t so flipping far away – it’s a handy old drive. My poor husband was a bit frazzled on arrival but I’d say that was mainly from being trapped in a car with me and my endless questions for four-and-a-bit hours. Anyway, we hadn’t been away together in a while and I was a bit apprehensive about how things would go – mainly in the bedroom department. Let me explain ….
• I’m an insanely light sleeper. It’s ridiculous. Even the slightest twitch (in the next parish) will wake me from my slumber. I know most of us are intolerant of snoring, but basically any audible signs of life in the person I’m sharing a bed with (including breathing) I cannot cope with. I’ll admit it’s a bit unreasonable, but that’s just the way I’m wired. I also don’t like anyone coming too close to me. I have a very clearly defined exclusion zone. And while in the early days of the marriage a foot touching mine, or a slight brush of a leg, was a sign of our deep connectedness, now it’s likely to warrant a full-on meltdown from me. I’m a nightmare!
• So, it’s not unusual for one or other of us to bail to the spare room from time to time, but of course we didn’t have that option on our weekend away. I did know someone once who used to book separate rooms for herself and her husband when they had a weekend away for the above reasons. I figured that was a bit extreme (and expensive … also maybe a tad weird?), so I ruled that out from the get-go. I’ve also a good pal who brings these high-tech noise cancelling earphones with her to drown out her hubby’s snores on ‘romantic’ weekends away. It works for them, but I left it too late to invest in a set so I had to make do with these ancient foam ear plugs that I got on a long-distance flight around 20 years ago. I wasn’t holding out much hope, but I’m not sure if it was the Western air, or all the chat in the car, but they worked a treat and we were still talking to each other over breakfast. Result! Sometimes simple is best.
• The same could be said for hotel rooms. It’s a fine line between trying to elevate the experience, and then over complicating it completely. This is especially true when it comes to the hotel ensuite. I’ll never forget a break in France a good few years back in a fancy chateau where the toilet was literally in the corner of the bedroom with a sort of half wall around it. It was all very open plan, architectural and … totally horrifying. Another time we stayed in a place which had a floor-to-ceiling glass window between the bedroom and bathroom. That nearly brought on a full-blown panic attack until I realised there was an option to frost it over at the touch of a button. I wasn’t the better of it for the whole stay.
• Basically, I’m a proper weirdo when it comes to the toilet, and am a strictly door locked kind of person. And sure why not give the option of a double lock and soundproof the room while you’re at it? I’m of the opinion that nothing that goes on in a bathroom needs to be shared. I know in movies you see couples with double sinks having those intimate end-of-day chats while brushing their teeth and it looks really convincing – well, that will only work if you’ve got the double sinks folks. Otherwise you just risk your other half spitting out their toothpaste on your hand. No thanks.
• My point is that in a world that’s already quite complicated, why make it more complicated? It’s like when people email you information or photos in these obscure formats. What’s wrong with a good old Word document? And while I’m on a roll why did McDonalds introduce that system where you have to do the ordering yourself? It’s always so hectic in these joints anyway that you can’t hear yourself think, so you’re guaranteed to miss a step, a rogue gherkin or onion will sneak through on the burger of a small person who will completely freak out, and you’ll have to go and order all over again while you’re quietly dying inside (and yes that did happen to me last week in McDonalds, and another time before that, and I’m sure will happen me again). Keep it simple I beg of you.
• Finally, I had the pleasure of attending our West Cork Farming Awards in the Celtic Ross Hotel last week, and it was the nicest Friday afternoon I’ve spent in a long time (and not just because I usually spend Friday afternoons doing the grocery shop, either). I grew up on a farm but never had the slightest interest in what went on in the yard. That was possibly because I was traumatised from being chased by an angry sow as a kid, and having to block cows at an age that would definitely be deemed too young these days (for anyone wondering, I was three). But for whatever reason, I now have a great fascination and admiration for our farmers, and the work they do. And while everyone couldn’t be declared a winner last Friday, as corny as it sounds, and from where I was sitting it looked like we were all doing just grand. And in a week where there’s been unspeakable tragedy and loss, to be able to say that, is surely something.
