DIARY OF A DEMENTED HOME WORKER: It’s Week 38 and I’m still not the better of the Toy Show, but at least Prof Luke has taken the stress out of Christmas Day ‘tablescape’ by telling everyone to bring their own plates and cutlery…
• BEFORE the dust settles on The Late Late Toy Show 2020 (and what an incredible show it was), can I just throw something a little controversial out there? What about getting the show on the road a little earlier next year? Maybe around 6pm or so? Not so much for the kids, but more for the thousands of parents who suffer all kinds of torture trying to get their smallies to survive until 9.30pm, and endure all kinds of ugly scenes and meltdowns along the way (not helped by ‘treat’ overload). The next day can also be a little ‘emotional’ for many. So, not wanting to sound like a kill joy or anything but …. we’re begging you RTÉ. And maybe shave seven minutes or so off the running time too? It’s times like this you’d miss Arthur Murphy’s Mailbag.
• God, it was a lot of pressure on one person, though wasn’t it? The hopes and dreams of the entire nation were resting on Tubs, but talk about rising to the occasion. What a trooper. I lived most of my national school years in absolute terror that I’d end up on the show. My sister would write in every year hoping to get us a slot. She used to collect fancy soaps and I had a collection of candles (random I know), and she figured that would be our unique selling point. Bless. The relief when, without fail, the letter would arrive around November regretting to inform us that we were out of luck, but to try again. She’d be devastated, while I’d light one of my candles in thanks. I found Gaybo terrifying, but I think if Tubs had been presenting I might have risen to the occasion too.
• And what about Simon Coveney speaking out in the Dáil and reassuring us that Santa will make it on Christmas Eve despite Covid regulations? And also telling the kids to stay in bed. Genius. Another trooper during what’s been a teary, sentimental old week. I just saw Skibbereen’s Chamber of Commerce virtual lights video, with music by the Ilen Vibe Choir and that set me off again. I know I’m only in Timoleague, but I miss dear old Skibbereen. We’ll be blubbering pities by December 25th at this rate!
• And so the Dryrobe saga rumbles on. I was actually going to pre-order one before all the fuss erupted and do you know what? I think I still will. From what I can make out, folks are mainly getting hot and bothered about them being worn in supermarkets and the like as some sort of symbol of bravado. These are probably the same people who wear flotation devices when they’re nowhere near a boat. AKA twats. But there’s really no need for everyone to get their knickers in a such twist – which is exactly what happens when you’re trying to dry off with a humble towel and rigor mortis is setting in after your dip. There’s nothing too pleasant either about getting a flash of middle-aged bums and boobs when you’re already in enough shock from the cold water!
• We haven’t put our decorations up yet. They’re down from the attic but that’s as far as we’ve got. Mainly as I haven’t had the inclination to do the dreaded pre–decorating ‘deep clean.’ The blue skies in recent days have been lovely but my god, how they show up the dust and streaks. One cloud shuffle and your gaff can go from looking quite ok, to absolutely frightening. Ignorance is bliss I say. It’s ok to live in squalor if you’re unaware of the fact.
• We had a bit of a traumatic week after one of our dogs got knocked down. He’s back from a stay at the vets and while is still in poor enough shape, he’s doing his best to wag the tail which we’re taking as a good sign. He’s a most curious creature (not helped by the fact that he has two different coloured eyes) and is quite aloof (different to being unfriendly). He goes by the name of Tadgh and he’s a bit of a trooper too.
• Prof Luke O’Neill’s advice for hosting this Christmas mightn’t suit everyone but it’s like music to my (oddball) ears: guests must bring their own cutlery and plates (eliminates the stress of creating the perfect insta-friendly ‘tablescape’); one person only in the kitchen (so no unhelpful ‘help’); reduced numbers around the table (‘Sorry, we’d love to have you all but…’) and no hanging about afterwards (‘Now, where did you leave your coats? Oh yes, you never took them off as we’ve all the windows open ... don’t forget your plates on the way out’). That’s one bit of advice I’ve no problem taking on board.
• Were any of you in the queue for Penneys on Tuesday morning? I was not feeling that urge. But until I get my Dryrobe, I do need something warm and fluffy so give me a shout if anyone’s making the pilgrimage.