Our columnist takes issue with digital ‘memories’, conspiratorial corvids, bank holidays and yes, golf
GETTING straight to the point this week: I think Facebook and Google photo memories should be abolished. Banned outright, with immediate effect. I’d even be on for starting a petition if I got a bit of support behind me. I mean, there you are on a random morning, minding your own business, doing your best to stay positive and focused on the task in front of you when bang, out of the blue, in lands a photo of you and your family, you and your pals, or the smallies in your life, on that day, taken many years earlier.
Aside from the fact that it’s always a very harsh reminder of the ageing process – it’s impossible not to be floored by how much younger you look – it’s always a really stark reminder of the swift passing of time. For me and my siblings these photos always end up being shared on the family WhatsApp, and, every time, prompt loads of crying face emojis and in my case a desire to lie down for a few hours and weep.
Anyway, it turns out I’m not alone in my dramatics – according to researchers (not sure of their exact credentials mind you) there’s an actual term for this, ‘nostalgic depression.’ Some study or other found that nostalgia may make people more likely to experience depression, as the tendency is to look back with rose tinted glasses and with a selective memory. What? The summers were always better before, Cork always won the All-Irelands and there was just more joy in the air. I’m sure of it. Their advice is to keep things in perspective. Or sign my petition?
In other more alarming news, I think the crows around my house are trying to tell me something ... and I wish they’d hurry up with it. The fact that a group of crows is correctively called a ‘murder’ speaks volumes because that’s exactly what I think they’re plotting against me. There’s so many of them hovering around in a tree at the front of the house and the racket they make is unreal, not to mind the mess. Before, some vigorous hand clapping or deranged shouting from me would move them on, but not any longer, they’ve become so brazen. Even the dogs, who would bark at a leaf, sort of skulk by them trying not to be noticed. Should I be worried?
Bringing me some solace is the glorious cow parsley that’s so plentiful in the ditches right now, and also the fox gloves. I only discovered relative recently that they’re actually poisonous, even deadly, if swallowed which admittedly, you’re unlikely to do. Now the crows on the other hand ....
She has also been inundated with digital memories from years gone by prompting a self-diagnosis of ‘nostalgic depression.’
So I haven’t got around to watching the latest series of And Just Like That, and I’m not actually sure I will either. I saw the trailer (I even felt some tears welling up ... nostalgic depression perhaps?) but I don’t think I’m in the right place to endure Carrie and her crew, who let’s be honest, are more than a bit irritating.
I have, for some reason or another watched a fair bit of TV recently (while also being very busy obviously, and living a very full and meaningful life) including Four Seasons on Netflix. Some parts of the series are unbelievably annoying, but other parts are very relatable and it’s worth a watch. I also watched Sirens on Netflix, starring Kevin Bacon who I’ve had a crush on for three decades. I’ve made my peace with the fact that it will never be so I just sat back and enjoyed it even if I’m sure the subliminal messages went over my head. My little habit of dozing off mid-episode probably didn’t help.
Now, I know I’ll sound half mad (for a change) but I’m relieved that the June bank holiday weekend is behind us and we’ve a bit of a lull now before the next long weekend in August. I usually feel wildly let down by bank holiday weekends. I’m always hopeful that an exciting plan will magically appear out of the sky and land in my lap with an hour by hour itinerary (featuring among other things a boat trip and perhaps drinks in Schull), outfit suggestions and maybe a driver. Then by the Monday afternoon when it’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, I get all furious at myself for my lack of planning and launch into some crazy stress cleaning. No more! I’ve decided I’ll definitely have my act together for August. How much would a six-seater RIB set you back? Even a good second hand one?
As we had no weekend plans I tried to encourage my husband to finish some of the communion jobs we never got around to – specifically all of the painting. No joy – it’s golfing season. He was taking part in a competition in Clonakilty on Sunday so myself and the smallie (in the absence of any other plans) went along to catch him finishing up. It was a whole new world to me and one where, you could get your head blown off if you veered off track.
Anyway, we found a good vantage spot and waited ... and waited. And waited. I’m shockingly impatient and was tempted to phone my husband to see if he could skip ahead a bit, as I had a chicken in the oven but I figured that might throw his game. Actually I did ring but he had it turned off. The cheek!
Anyway, we saw him in action on the last hole, (the chicken was extra crispy) I can see now why my he enjoys it so much – all those hours of me time and a long walk thrown in. Forget the boat, it’s a set of golf clubs I’m going to invest in. I just need to get my head around the birdies and the bogeys!
