DIARY OF A DEMENTED HOME WORKER: Week 24 and as the coalition teeters on a dangerous brink, I’m wondering if that’s a wrap on summer 2020, or if it’s worth a final hurrah? Just not with 80 people.
• WHAT’S left to say about golf-gate that hasn’t already been said? Even as the story broke I could barely muster enough energy to be properly furious, if I’m being honest. I was mainly just flabbergasted at the behaviour of people I (wrongly) assumed were intelligent and had a good handle on the mood of the country. Hah! Turns out they get just as excited by a night out as the rest of us. Except we’ve all had to pass on gatherings that involved as many as 80 people – tempting and all as it would be. Imagine! So many fresh ears to regale/bore to death with our pandemic stories! Some of our best political analysts have given excellent commentaries on this, so all that’s left for me to say is that what upset me most of all was former broadcaster Sean O’Rourke’s involvement in the whole sorry mess.
• And so the agricultural portfolio is up for grabs. Again. It’s like a game of pass the parcel at this stage but let’s hope it’s third time lucky, for the farmers if nothing else. We’re only 100 odd days away from Brexit, there’s delicate CAP deals to be negotiated, climate targets to meet etc. Suffice it to say there’s a lot on the line here. Donegal TD and current junior minister for law reform Charlie McConalogue is widely tipped to take the role. But around these parts (depending on your colours obviously), Simon Coveney is the man many farmers would trust to get things over the line. I’d actually love to hear what the Corkman is saying to the cabinet behind closed doors. Hopefully it’s something completely unprintable. I’d also love to hear what he said to Paschal Donohoe when he showed up to PJ Sheehan’s funeral in that grey hoodie.
• Anyway, Storm Ellen had us all on our toes during the week and meant we were all in a mad scramble to take down tents and clear our patios in a hurry. I’m not sure I’ve enough energy to drag things back out again so I think that’s a wrap on Summer 2020 even if we didn’t have the last ceremonial BBQ (regular readers will know I never actually managed to track down a BBQ, but you know what I mean). Now if someone could pass that memo on to the godforsaken flies I’d be most grateful.
• The clinginess factor has reached an all-time high round my place. Not so much with my husband, funnily enough, but mainly the four-year-old and the dog who both literally follow me around all day long and fight over who gets to sit on me. If I dare move to another room, unannounced, my return will be greeted as if I’ve been to war. The armchair psychologist in me thinks it’s because they know some sort of normality is looming large on the horizon. And all I can say is thank the lord for that. Where I’d be usually feeling a little refreshed at this time of year, right now I’m mainly feeling over-crowded.
• Back to the topic of masks. Sorry for beating the same drum over and over, but I honestly cannot understand how unmasked customers are still being served in shops. I was in a local convenience shop the other day and a guy without a mask, with two kids, was ahead of me, leaning up against the counter and making an awful lot of work out of paying for his few bits and pieces. In the meantime, I was so incensed I was practically hyperventilating with anger inside my mask. I appeal to shop owners to empower their staff, lots of whom may be young, to say: ‘No mask, sorry no can do.’ Having said that, I’m seeing lots of people pulling very crumpled, well-travelled looking single-use masks out of bags and pockets, so they may as well not be wearing any. I’m not sure why some people have taken an attitude of ‘era yeah, sure the global pandemic hasn’t really impacted us here at all.’ Muppets.
• Ok so in better news (I’m trying), my local exercise class is back next week. I’m equal parts delighted that salvation is nigh, but also scared I won’t even make it through the warm-up. I haven’t seen lots of the other class goers for a while and I’m wondering where I’ll fit in the ‘how badly did you let yourself go since March’ scale. I’d say I’ll be a solid nine, with 10 being ‘past the point of rescue.’ Step by step.
• And in something completely random, what is with the shortage of kids’ socks and underwear? It’s insane, and it goes from high street shops right up to the higher end outlets. It’s obviously linked to factories in China and a delay in materials but let’s hope they get things sorted sharpish and get restocked. My darning skills aren’t all they should be.
• On more frivolous matters, what’s our stance on this season’s sock boot runner? If you google it, don’t be put off by the horrendous Tommy Hilfiger ones, it’s the Balenciaga ones I’m talking about. Too much? I can’t quite decide. Also, does anyone know where can I get an Yves Salomon lookalike coat that won’t cost me €1,000? Don’t leave me hanging.
• Somewhere around mid-August I took a week off housework – it must have been a beach week – and I just never went back. At the start it was liberating, now it’s more horrifying but I’m just so bate from never ending fly marks/toothpaste marks/ other unidentified and unpleasant marks that I’ve given up. I’m basically just squirting Domestos at things and hoping for the best, while fearing that if ‘The Covid’ won’t get me, then some sort of plague will. Send help.