• THIS week I’m suffering from a serious case of summer FOMO (fear of missing out). I know, I know, there’s always something wrong with me ... sure ye half expect it of me!
It’s just the weeks are flying by far too fast for my liking and while we’re genuinely having a lovely time, I’m just afraid it’s not lovely enough ... and that other random people are having a more lovely time than us (are ye though? Any tips?).
I’m tormenting myself wondering if we should be kayaking at midnight or foraging at dawn? And maybe paddle boarding in-between? How about house swapping with some folk in Bordeaux? Bundoran? Ballybunion? (I draw the line at Barryroe, sorry). Should we be having memorable cultural experiences or at the very least attempting a Park Run or doing yoga on some beach?
• I’ll admit to being in a proper tizzy as I’m trying to figure out how to make the most of what we’ve left of the school holidays which, to be fair, is the bones of a month.
In my madder moments, here’s what I’m thinking: get a jumpstart on things by starting the night before with a cooked breakfast (D’Unbelievables style, two of everything), heading West then until we run out of land, take a load of photos (which must include signs of the Mizen and the Dursey Cable Car for verification purposes), then swing East to Fota and if there’s still time, make a burst for Bunratty. Achievable right? Aargh! I’m tying myself up in knots, and getting absolutely nowhere when I know deep down that simple is what’s best. A bit like myself.
• Rose-tinted glasses are wonderful but some of my best summer memories as a child revolve around really straightforward, borderline mundane things. Top of the list of ‘fun things to do’ was crab fishing off Courtmacsherry pier with our cousins. We always put the crabs back afterwards but the craic was next level (more for us than the crabs, I’d imagine). Strangely no one went whale watching back then. Either they hadn’t arrived off our shores yet, or we just hadn’t spotted them. We were probably too busy crab fishing.
The simple of pleasure of catching crabs – and then safely returning them – was a childhood favourite pastime.
• Hitting a tennis ball up against the shed wall was another thing we knocked hours out of – predictably prompted by Wimbledon. We all wanted to be Steffi Graf (god help us!). My siblings and I were so enthused that our mum got an unwanted net and borrowed a county council road marker to mark out a court in our farmyard. Somehow we got distracted and one half of the court ended up a little larger than the other, but I think it took us a few weeks to actually realise that. That was probably because we spent most of our time just looking for the balls!
• Here’s an odd one now: you know that sticky weed (cleavers is its official name I think)? Well, we had loads of it in the ditches around our house so we’d stockpile it, and then wait for a car to pass and throw it vaguely in its direction. Sometimes we’d have to wait a long time, like an hour or longer. And the car would be gone by before we’d get our act together (the stuff would comically stick to our fingers). And then we’d have to wait another hour. Or longer. It was more fun than it sounds ... I think! In hindsight it’s probably best that we never acted on our plan of setting up a lemonade stand at the end of the drive – that might have fallen a bit flat too.
• Skimming stones on beaches, slipways, anywhere we could, was another big preoccupation of ours, and a competitive one too. To be honest, I never had the knack, despite the copious amount of time I spent combing the beach for the most perfectly flat looking stones. It’s a skill you’re born with I reckon! A bit like tennis.
• Podding peas, now that’s something I was nifty at. My grandfather had a very impressive vegetable garden. Of course as kids we had absolutely no appreciation of the work, and talent it required – I can’t even sustain those ‘grow in a bag’ tomatoes I’m ashamed to say.
Every summer he’d have lettuce, carrots, potatoes, and peas, lots and lots of peas. Many the happy hour I spent with my siblings podding peas around the kitchen table as we each competitively guarded our stash while trying to stop them flying all over the place.
The other day I heard broadcaster Ray Darcy call that kind of activity, where you’re very much in the moment but doing something worthwhile, ‘constructive meditation’. There you are now. We were streets ahead of the wellness movement with our peas and we didn’t even realise it.
• Looking back, the weather always seemed to be better in the 80s, but having said that I do remember plenty of picnics from the boot of the car too. The best kind! Chips were eaten sitting on a wall, or on a curb after visiting a festival in a neighbouring village, an excursion that was way exotic than you could imagine, and they always tasted great.
Cork hurlers and footballers always seemed to be winning matches (I won’t mention further the heartbreak of Sunday for our hurlers – they went so close!); The Sunday Game theme music was the soundtrack to our summers and my mum would be giving out for having the curtains closed in the TV room on glorious afternoons as we watched them blaze to glory – she never meant it though!
• All these random happy memories reminded me of the saying that ‘comparison is the thief of joy’. So true. Social media is both brilliant and bewildering, and we don’t always need to see what everyone else is doing (only if you’re really bored).
Keep your eyes on what’s in front of you, or otherwise you might end up missing the best bits, the normal bits, the joy in the everyday (not the loading and emptying of the dishwasher though, that’s one bit of the everyday that is devoid of all joy).
Now that I’ve sorted myself out, does anyone have some peas that need podding? Or wait a minute, it’s almost time for blackberry picking isn’t it?
Happy days ... peas out!
