• I’VE sometimes wondered what it might feel like to stop traffic. I felt sure there’d be some hair flicking involved, definitely some coy smiling and maybe a feminine blush. I was wrong. Turns out it’s more like profuse sweating, major panic and apologetic hand shrugging.
Let’s start at the beginning. So, one afternoon last week, on a whim, we decided we’d take a spin to Schull. I’ve absolutely no idea why, but I hadn’t been to this gorgeous spot in a few years. The drive over was lovely, Ballydehob was absolutely buzzing (when is it not? Now that’s a village that has got a great vibe going on) and then it was on to Schull where we were greeted with that glorious view of the harbour. Plain sailing so far.
After a few laps around the car park at the edge of the village, it was clear I’d have to venture onwards to get a parking space. Not a bother! Then on the main thoroughfare a car pulled out just in front of me, freeing up a spot, which was a bit on the tight side, but which most people would have managed. But I’m not most people. I’m one of those people who has never mastered the art of parallel parking. In this case though, as the timing was so perfect, I felt the universe was talking to me, and I should at least give it a shot. So, I did. I gave it three of my best shots but on the final try, when people were beginning to stop and stare, and pull their kids back from the footpath in horror, I admitted defeat.
• Now, at this point I was starting to get a bit hot and bothered (it was also very humid that particular day) and in a spectacularly bad move, I pulled out, just as an enormous lorry was coming in the opposite direction. Pretty soon there was a long line of cars behind both of us, it was total gridlock and it was turning into a bit of a side show.
At this stage I’d day I had gone from hot and bothered, to pretty much all-out panic. I looked skyward to see if there was a winchman in the area (there wasn’t) and considered abandoning the car and running off, but as I had three kids onboard I felt that wouldn’t have been responsible. Instead I asked them what to do.
• Normally none of the three have any problems telling me exactly what to do but on this occasion, they were unable to offer anything constructive besides things like ‘Oh god! This is all your fault! Imagine if someone is videoing this and we end up on YouTube!’ Fabulous. Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity some kind-hearted tourist took pity on me, and suggested, through my open window, a nifty manoeuvre which thankfully worked and we all went on our way. Not before I had achieved some notoriety though as in a shop later on someone said ‘oh was that you earlier with the lorry? You poor thing!’ As it happened, I witnessed a proper road rage type incident in the village later on that afternoon where tempers were properly frayed. So, to the lorry driver I delayed for a (good) while last Wednesday afternoon, thanks for keeping your cool!
And to the barista who knew by my eyes that I needed an extra strong, iced coffee afterwards, your kindness won’t be forgotten!
• Right, so normally at this stage of the summer I’d have the school books bought, covered and put away. In fact, it’s something I usually like to get out of the way before the dust has settled on the first week of the holidays.
This year of course we haven’t had to do any of that with the government’s free book scheme and call me crazy (lots of people do), but I’m still waiting on the catch. I can’t help but think there’s going to be some announcement, or an email sent out the day before the schools reopen to say that it’s all been a bit of a misunderstanding or that I didn’t read the small print properly and we have to buy them ourselves after all. I think I’ll buy a roll of contact and have it on standby just in case. No?
• I’ve always been a bit uneasy when it comes to free stuff. Even when it comes to something innocent like a free pen at a stand at the ploughing championships, or a free taster in the supermarket I’m a bit slow to take up the offer. I turn into a proper psycho in a hotel where I’m reluctant to even take the slippers that are obviously intended for your own use. On the odd occasion I have packed them to take home, I start sweating when we’re checking out, and am tempted to burst open my bag and confess my crime, before the concierge comes rushing out and handcuffs me on the spot using a bathrobe belt.
Obviously that means I’m not one for pilfering the pastries from the breakfast buffet either. Unlike most, I’m just not cut out for croissant crimes.
• Speaking of free stuff, I had promised my daughter a trip to a certain shop that will be known to parents of kids of a certain age. I’ll give you a clue: there are lots of ‘accessories’ there.
We had agreed she could get two things, and somehow, she managed to negotiate that up to three while we were in there. After what seemed like an eternity, she made her selection, and we finally made our way to the check-out, only for the staff member to cheerfully tell us that as we had bought three items, we could get three otheritems … for free!
Jesus wept. If anyone is short of nail varnish or fake nails, we’ve got quite the supply so don’t be shy to ask. My personal high point of that particular excursion was getting to see the wildflower pollinators on Bandon’s Glasslinn road. They are absolutely stunning.
• Finally, if you haven’t had a chance to see The Deepest Breath on Netflix, check it out. The free diving documentary is not easy viewing, but it’s incredibly moving. Its director is Irish woman Laura McGann, and given that it has been screened in cinemas in the US, it’s eligible to be considered for an Oscar.
Watch this space I’d say.
