Zoe and I have just spent three nights in County Kerry. It was a family occasion, the naming ceremony of my great-nephew. We travelled by train, which was pleasant enough, although rather a long journey - forty minutes from Cullybackey to Belfast, two hours on the Enterprise to Dublin and four hours from Dublin to Tralee. Bhí sé goirt ar mo thóin.*
Not drowning but waving
When we arrived it seemed that the fam was swimming mad as there was a great rush to Ballydavid before it got too dark or cold - not that those hardy hoors would have cared. As I cannot swim a stroke it was left to me to take the pictures and mind their stuff. Being me, I took the opportunity to have a little fall. Nothing much, a fast approach of kneecaps to asphalt and a bit of abrasion to the hands. The important thing was, no one witnessed it.
That evening we had our supper at Kerry Sister's and made arrangements to have everyone over to our spacious holiday rental the following night. Which would be fifteen people. No bother.
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The spacious holiday rental consisted of four big rooms, two of which were en suite. I had previously volunteered Zoe and me for the twin bed share. Of which, more later. Enough to say neither of us slept well and that night I had a dream so foul that I will never be able to speak of it.
Although I say it myself the supper for fifteen was a big success. This was almost entirely down to our multi-talented Dr Leitrim Sister who has previous experience catering for stars of stage and screen. Zoe acted as her capable assistant. My own contribution was chopping veggies for a green salad and being encouraging.
That was my one and only drinking night. I had at least four (large) glasses of Lidls finest and I like to think I made some new friends.
Yet sleep eluded me (and Zoe) for a second night. Damn those pathetic, useless beds with their comfortless coverings and cheap single pillows.
The next day was to be the darling nephew's big day. The intrepid swimmers headed back to Ballydavid and I stayed behind to finish Brendan Behan's After The Wake which I'd promised to Leitrim Sister. Then it was off to the Naming Ceremony which turned out to be one of the best days of my entire life.
The actual ceremony was beautiful, and led by a Humanist celebrant. There was music, sublime and sincere performed by humans who were close to the child. It was meaningful in a way that made me realise that our gods intrude. And the little child knew. He knew that he was loved. Little children don't care about gods. They are the original humanists.
It was a long day with delicious food, great company and craic. I even managed to have an IRL encounter with someone I only knew online and that was good too.
After all the excitement I thought I might have rested easier in my bed. No luck. I tossed and turned and ached all night. A short fitful sleep was marred by horrible anxiety dreams and I even considered moving to the sofa in the sitting room for relief. Zoe beat me to it and I was left plotting revenge on the haunted beds. I fantasised about breaking my bed with a hammer and then burning it to ashes on the front lawn.
Last day. I'd finished After the Wake and swapped it for Leitrim Sister's copy of The End of the World is a Cul de Sac which was shaping up to be excellent. There was a last goodbye to everyone and special hugs for the baby. We will meet again soon.
Leitrim Sister gave Zoe and me a lift to Dublin where we completed the journey by train. And on the way, we stopped at Barack Obama Plaza on the Tipperary/Offaly border. We hit it at a busy time - there were 5 coaches in the car park, two belonging to a hundred or more under-12 GAA lads and three packed with students heading to Dublin. On the way back to the car, Leitrim Sister and Zoe were expressing some disappointment about the services offered. But not me. I felt enlivened by the squawking baby footballers and delighted with the weary students. It could have been worse, I ventured. Could have been 5 coach loads of wee grannies like me.
Zoe said,
Can you imagine it? All those wee grannies standing around the coffee machine saying, "How does it work? Can you show me?"
Cheeky skitter.
* I am using an online translation service and would welcome corrections.
3 comments:
what a delight to see you all together and to hear how moving the service was. I totally understand the bed trauma - I used to scoff at my parents complaining about the wrong pillows or lumpy mattresses when away from home but now I totally understand it.
The beds were miserable but everything else was fabulous. I did miss that Eamon couldn't be with us.
I couldn't Tony but here's a clue - it was a bit like the alien abduction scenario except all the aliens were my hot cousins.
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