Not to put a tooth in it, our extra (extra) long weekend pretty much failed to get off the ground at all. That’s why I’ve already started to plan ahead for the next one in May.
• IN theory last week’s three day working week sounded great. In reality it threw me right off kilter. And that flipping full moon didn’t help either, or at least that’s what I’m blaming for never really finding my stride. Was it just me or was there constant pressure to have fun, to be out there living your best life on the bonus, never-to-be-repeated in our lifetime extra-long bank holiday weekend? A quick look on Instagram at random intervals (approximately every three minutes) confirmed we definitely weren’t hitting our fun targets. For starters, like so many others, we had not jetted out of the country, we had not even departed the parish, sod it we were mainly at home in our non-green pyjamas, (someone was actually still in their Christmas jammies), there was no green-themed champagne brunch and the dog was not dressed in green. We were a disgrace to our country and to St Patrick himself.
• To make matters worse (or better?) we had a serious internet outage which trying to fix made us late for one parade ... as in we missed it entirely. Since when did things start on time in Ireland anyway? After tantrums all round we then ended up being way too early for another one, where I found myself belting out Hail Glorious St Patrick with gusto (even if I got the words a bit mixed up with Hail Queen of Heaven). I struggled with the overall theme a bit but that’s the thing with St Patrick’s Day parades – there isn’t any. Lots of people I think had just been walking down the road and had accidentally got swept into the parade, judging by their stunned expressions, but they went with it. Only in Ireland. Anyway, a serious bonus was the fact that the usual poisonous March wind and sideways rain was absent, and the internet was back when we got home. So to conclude, our St Patty’s weekend was not as good as Rachael Blackmore’s, but not as woeful as Micheál Martin’s. Going all the way to Washington and getting ‘the Covid.’ Now that’s what you’d call a right old dose.
• See, that’s half the reason I’m still a bit slow to plan anything much these days as the risk factor is quite high again, because of Covid numbers. Is it better to plan and risk having to cancel, or never to plan at all? There’s a bit of a Shakespearian ring to that isn’t there? I’m in camp two which is why for the four-day bank holiday weekend I found myself in various playgrounds and on different forest walks looking different shades of green (with envy) for those who had gone next level. An epic tractor run over the road was a definite highlight. Now that’s something I never thought I’d say.
• Of course, Covid or no Covid, I’ll admit to never being a great planner. Or rather I’m ok to plan something, but not great to execute it. If we’re still a fortnight out from said event I’m all excited but come the day, and come the hour, I live in hope that someone will cancel, or the world will end and I can stay home in my pyjamas. Now, I can’t be the canceller as I’ve a ferocious reputation among my crew as an awful flake so I have to hold my nerve and when the text comes through (someone has a sick child, a sick cat, is a close contact, just can’t be arsed) it’s like winning the lotto. Going out more than three times a year is unnecessary in my opinion.
• I’m thrilled though that Daffodil Day is back in our communities and I’m confident the Irish Cancer Society fundraiser will get the super response it usually does. A large portion of the funds raised on the day go towards their night nurses and any family who has experience of this service will tell you how vital, how priceless, it is. My family has, and honestly, while that period of time is a blur, and I could pass our night nurses on the street and not even recognise them, in that moment in time, they were everything. I’m not going to start citing cancer statistics. We all know it’s a lottery and it all comes down to research, a lot of which is being done in Cork. So throw a few quid into a bucket and help to keep this great work going.
• Finally, I’m embarking on a ‘dental journey’ this week. So far it has been very painful, mainly to my bank account, but my options weren’t great: a costly implant, or a hard-to-miss gap. I gave the gap some serious consideration before deciding that while cute in a kid, it’s probably less so in middle-age. I wouldn’t be what you’d call a great smiler at the best of times, but I figured it’s a bit soon to give into the old hag face just yet. Besides I’ll want to be looking my best for the seriously fantastic May bank holiday weekend I’m already planning. In the meantime I’ll be mainly getting over the shock of the clocks going forward (or is it back?) this weekend. I can never remember. Regardless, it always blooming knocks me for six.