Emma spent last week in fear that the good weather wouldn’t last (when does it!) and missed out on actually enjoying it
• IT has been a stressful few days and that’s entirely down to two things: the weather and the washing.
Starting with the weather so ... I have to say, mainly because I’m half cracked, that I couldn’t properly enjoy it glorious and all as it was. One half of my brain was saying ‘go for it, down tools, forget the routine, the dinner, the drudgery, book the pedicure, head to the nearest beach, eat the ice cream and feel the joy,’ but then the other side of my brain was insisting ‘no, don’t do it. Don’t pull out the cushions for the garden furniture, don’t spend a small fortune in the garden centre and under no circumstances don’t start Googling pergolas, there’s absolutely no point, because it won’t last.’ And it was that constant fear that the gorgeous spell would end that ruined it for me.
And it wasn’t just me either as the hot question on everyone’s lips when I was out and about (not on the way to the beach obviously) was ‘will it last do you think?’ I mean seriously! Sure this is Ireland so there was no way in the whole wide world that it was going to
last.
There’s optimism and then there’s pure delusion. But of course the big question we need answered now is, if that was our summer? Are we already done and dusted before we even reach the May bank holiday weekend? If memory serves me right this has happened before – an early blast of heat followed by weeks upon weeks of drizzle. What’s the Donegal postman got to say I wonder? Looking on the plus side, the farmers actually needed a drop of rain so we’ll hold tough a while (like we have a choice!).
• So next to the washing. We’ve just changed to a new energy provider and our package gives us free electricity on a Saturday. In theory this sounds wonderful but in reality it’s next-level stressful. We’re only a week into the new regime and I’m already wrecked from it. Not that Saturday is ever a relaxing day in any grown up’s life but now, from the minute I wake up until the clock chimes midnight I’m running around like a demented Duracell bunny. It’s great for getting the steps in but not so good for the nerves as I have to ignore the laundry as it mounts slowly but surely during the week (tricky for someone like me who can’t even ignore a cup in the sink), then spend Saturday loading and unloading appliances at record speed. It doesn’t matter if there’s drying out, I’ve the tumble dryer on constantly. I’m practically meeting myself coming backwards with the hoover (and it’s battery operated – but when you’re in the zone you’re in the zone!), am batch cooking and baking to beat the band, and encouraging long showers etc, all to get my money’s worth.
I used to be the kind of person who was more frivolous than frugal but now with the cost of living spiralling (is it just me or does everything seem to have gotten even more expensive?) and warnings of tight times ahead thanks to Trump’s tariffs I’m watching the bottom line ... and what can I say, Saturday is the only day I don’t have to watch the clothes line!
I’m thinking I might even take in ironing or offer laundry time slots to family and friends? Maybe a ‘Drop and Dry’ service? That could be a nice little earner.
The recent good weather has been too good to be true, meaning Emma hasn't been able to enjoy it!
• On a totally different subject, I made a random discovery this week: I think I’d have made a mighty fine corner-back on the camogie field.
Billy (the puppy who is now so heavy I can hardly lift him which is only a problem when he sits on the road during his walk and refuses point blank to move and has to be carried home) is nearly toilet trained which is fabulous. But, there’s always a but, he’s is totally indiscriminate about where he relieves himself outside which means I’ve to go on regular poo patrols to avoid things getting ... gross. I’ve assigned a large yellow shovel for the task and I’m not sure if it’s down to practice (Billy has quite an impressive output), or talent, but I’ve got quite the knack. You have to bend to get your angle just right, followed by a quick and confident scoop of the poop and then a strong flick of the wrist to fling ‘it’ into the nearest field (and not drop it on your shoes which happened to me a bit at the start). I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying the task but my jab lift is nearing pure perfection.
Anyway, back to Billy ... he is absolutely flying it. He reminds me of a child of the 80s – most of the time I’m not quite sure where he is or what he’s up to but I know he’ll show up when he’s hungry before heading off down the fields again on another adventure. He is such a curious chap that I’m certain this must his second time around.
• Anyway, depending on when you’re reading, we’re either approaching or on the other side of Good Friday which is one of my favourite days of the year. I’m not sure what it says about me but I just adore this day of misery and suffering. I think it’s the nostalgia that appeals to me.
I used to go to the devotions with my grandparents which, according to my less than trusty memory, lasted at least three hours if not more. You’d be swaying slightly from the lack of sustenance (it was a strictly observed fast day) during the ‘long gospel’ not that you minded because it was always exciting to see what locals had been chosen to read the different parts – Judas being almost more sought after than Jesus himself, but the narrator being the best of all.
When you eventually got home all you had to look forward to was a cold plate (comprising a boiled egg and beetroot or maybe potato salad from a tin), before you settled down to watch some slightly terrifying film about the crucifixion (thorns included) and not a snack in sight. Sure now there’s Easter egg hunts after mass for goodness sake. Where’s the fun in that? Kids these says don’t know what they’re missing!
