Ah Howth, I love you so.
Summer brings the throngs of visitors in questionable outfits. The lads who have swapped their grey trackies for grey trackie shorts. The girls who have cut up their jeans, cut them up to your imagination. The gangs of mean looking seagulls loitering on every available surface, waiting for any morsel to drop from a mouth. And that pungent tang of salt and vinegar from Caffe Caira!
Standing in the queue to buy lunch…
“Ah would you stop messing?” one woman says to the other. “You’ll spill my coffee!”
“I could slip on it.”
“I can see the heading now ‘Woman awarded €100k for slipping on friend’s coffee…'”
“If you slosh your coffee and I slip on it, we’ll definitely be ‘former’ friends! For once, can you not just keep it in the cup???”
“Ah, would you keep your fecking cacks on!!!”
“I would – if I was wearing any!!!”
And at that the two dissolved into guffaws that would leave Beavis and Butthead stunned!
Chatting to someone the other day about fish. She can’t eat any as she’s ‘highly allergic.’
Before I could express sympathy, she added “I can only eat Whiting, Cod, Sea Bass and Tuna. I live on Tuna…”
Notice in local coffee shop…
‘Cappucino, Latte, Mocha and Flat White *all* contain milk!’
Ever get the feeling they are tired answering the *same* question?!?
“Do X and X live here?”
“Yes, they left 11 years ago.”
“That’s very exact.”
“We bought the house from them.”
“Do X and X live here?”
“Yes, they left 11 years ago. We bought the house from them.”
“Oh. We had this conversation yesterday, didn’t we?”
“Yes we did.”
“X and X still don’t live here?”
“No change from yesterday.”
“No harm in asking.”
People watching at the airport while I wait for a pal to arrive.
Tearful family reunions.
Romantic kisses between lovers.
Guys nervously waiting at the barrier with bouquets of flowers.
And children vigorously wiping grandparents’ kisses from their faces.
I’m checking out in the supermarket – as you do – and get one of those chatty gals who likes to comment on *everything* I’m buying. After years of this, I’m used to it and answer the deluge of questions which are now cascading.
She picks up one item and says “They look nice. Are they new?”
“Eh…yes”, I answer.
“Not sure I’d like them. Not a great fan of herbal tea myself.”
“Neither am I”, I respond, wondering what she will say next.
“Do they taste nice?” she asks and I answer that I don’t know.
“Good Lord!” says she as she drops the item abruptly on the conveyor belt, her cheeks now glowing red.
Not knowing what to say, I mutter “Eh…pretty box.”
“Indeed”, says she as I take the box of sanitary towels and pack them in with the rest of my shopping…
June Carter used respond “I’m just trying to matter” when asked how she was doing. Tonight, I received a very unexpected email which told me I’d mattered to someone.
During the summer, I crossed paths with a lovely young couple. They were in a rut and couldn’t see a way forward. By complete fluke, I’d finished a project and had information at hand that could help. I listened. They chatted. I gave them the relevant information. We said our goodbyes.
I marvelled at the randomness of the encounter and how sometimes we are meant to cross someone’s path. A month earlier and I would not have had that information.
They emailed to tell me how things turned out and it was all such positive news. I am so delighted for them. They really do deserve good luck.
For years, I have put bread and nuts out for the birds. Not any more. For the past two weeks, I have a seagull coming to the window and banging on it to be fed. The Apres Teen thought I was making it up until she witnessed it first-hand. Her reaction? “Mum, you have created a monster. Would serve you right if it breaks through the glass, comes into the room and pecks at you!”
Now me and that bird – we play a game of tag. It knocks and I run it off. If I don’t, it keeps banging on the glass.
One morning, I heard it knocking downstairs. Deciding to ignore it, I fell back to sleep. And then there was more knocking but this time it sounded as if it was on my bedroom door. Freaked that the Apres Teen’s prophecy had come true, I got up to investigate. More knocking. This time at the window of my *first floor* bedroom. Pulled back the blind expecting to see that damn seagull again but no, it was a Magpie taking up the charge!
Hitchcock would be loving this!
Pottering around upstairs while the Apres Teen eats brunch lounging on one of our many couches. Next I hear… “STOP!” “Go away!” “No, I am not feeding you !!!” “I am NOT my mother!”
And the seagull still keeps tapping!
I hadn’t seen it in days so it obviously thinks the AP is a safer bet. “Film it!” roars me down the stairs. “I. WILL. NOT!” comes the reply. “That will only encourage the fecker!”
Interesting chat with my daughter about how, in ‘the old days’, you weren’t able to set your alarm clock for over 12 hours. Trying to explain that, no matter how exhausted you were, you’d have to wait up to set the clock made no sense to her. It’s on par with trying to explain that, before the internet, you had to ask people for their address and phone number if you wanted to make contact again…