WOMAN ON THE VERGE: My night owl days are gone, I’m finally discovering joys of going undercover

After years of staying up late, our columnist has discovered the benefits of going to bed early. But the only problem is her other half has already hogged the early night slot, so it’s a race to the bedroom for a night’s kip.

I DISCOVERED something revolutionary this week. The benefits of going to bed early! I know, who’d have thought it?

On my recent weekend away my pals were aghast, utterly dismayed at my lack of discipline when it came to getting under the covers at night, and urged me to change my ways immediately, so I did what I was told, and lads, it really is life changing.

I no longer wake up feeling like death, or declaring through my tiny sleepdeprived eyes that I’m going to bed at 6pm that night.

There’s an actual pep in my step. Just a little, but if you look really close, you can see it, and that’s even before the coffee. So now I retire to the bedroom around 9.45/10pm or so and I’ve made it very clear to my husband that it’s not an invitation for any ‘funny business’ either.

In fact, it’s a very serious business! I might put on a face mask, slather some cream on my hooves, read a book or just luxuriate in my lovely room.

There’s one slight problem, though, as my husband really likes to go to bed early too.

He’s sort of had a monopoly on it for a good while, so the new unwritten rule is whoever gets into the room first, gets to impose an exclusion zone of at least 45 minutes before the other half can enter.

The result is that we’re tripping over each other to get down the hall and into the leaba first.

It’s only a matter of time before someone is going to be injured.

I’m ashamed to admit it but I’ve resorted to the odd dirty trick, sending him to put the bins out (when they’re already out) or to investigate a cow making a ‘funny noise’ just so I can claim the sleeping quarters.

The whole thing is exhausting – just as well we’re going to bed early!

My smallie turned eight this week. I can’t believe how quickly the years are going.

When you’re in the middle of the nappies and the naps (or lack of) you’d only be fantasising about the days when they’re more independent and then when it happens, sure you’re only lamenting the baby years.

My new phone sends me these photo memories every other day.

I know most people are well used to this but it’s still a new thing for me and my tiny little brain can’t help but be hugely impressed at the little videos it makes for me – without even asking!

I’m always sending them to my sister, accompanied by little crying emoji faces, and declarations to live more in the moment, to enjoy the here and now, before getting back to work and not living in the moment at all. Like, what’s that about?

But what about the weather? (Sorry! I can’t help myself, it’s in my DNA to talk about it).

I was consoling myself that there can statistically be only so much rainfall in a year (I think, statistics aren’t my strong point), and given that we’ve had so much rain already this year (understatement), we can surely expect a dry summer, right?

You might think so but experts are now saying that the birds that would usually migrate to follow wetter climes are still hanging about.

They haven’t packed up yet, and it’s nothing to do with the costs of Ryanair flights either.

After my lovely weekend in Clare I was half thinking we should holiday at home this year, but I’m not sure my nerves could take it now to be honest.

And what a pity we didn’t get the snow day all the same, as bonkers as it was it would have been lovely (and it would have been a chance to wear that snow gear I got in that discount supermarket before Christmas that haven’t seen the light of day yet).

Anyway, I had the pleasure of attending a Network West Cork event in Skibbereen last week.

At the Network Ireland West Cork event in Skibbereen were Helen Wycherley, Patricia Maybury, Emma Connolly (MC) and Susan Duggan Collins. (Photo: Kathryn O’Shea)

Two of my longest and best friends came too and we got to ‘network’ with each other (in other words chat, but it still counts) so it was time very well spent.

We also spotted another girl that we thought we had gone to school with but weren’t quite sure and we were about to chance it and say hello when I shared a cautionary tale, that even thinking about still makes me blush with embarrassment.

It happened last summer. We were in Fota Wildlife Park when I saw a girl I thought I had gone to college with.

We hadn’t been particularly pally but we were a small class so I figured it would be a lost opportunity not to venture an ‘hello.’

So I did. And she looked at me blankly, for what seemed like a really long time, and then a bit longer before some sort of recognition kicked in on her side, which in hindsight I think was fake. I had clearly made a lasting impression there.

We were near the capybaras enclosure and even they looked mortified for me as I skulked back to my family.

Anyway, emboldened by our name tags we chanced it at the Network event and had a lovely chat with our former school pal, covering three decades of news in around three minutes, and all was good in the world.

In other news, we got the remains of our lovely little dog Darcy back this week after her cremation.

I had been trying to figure out how to explain it to my daughter when in marched my husband with a bag, declaring ‘Here’s Darcy!’ which wasn’t the most subtle approach.

I wasn’t doing much better I might add. ‘It’s her spirit,’ I declared. ‘In the bag?’ my daughter asked, with blank, confused stares.

I panicked and blurted: ‘It’s sand from the vets to scatter and remember her by’ before changing the subject entirely.

It’s a tricky one. The sand is now under my desk at my feet and I’m googling ‘how to explain cremations to a child’ – no mention of sand so far. Funny that.

And finally something else a bit funny ... around 11am last Sunday morning my husband wished me a Happy Mother’s Day (even though strictly speaking I’m not his mum!), and my daughter chimed in with a hasty ‘oh yes, happy Mother’s Day!’ straight after.

And that was it! They looked a little uneasy and were waiting for my reaction.

I gave it 10 minutes before I told them they were a week early, which was just as well.

But what’s the bets the same thing will happen this Sunday?

I don’t care, I’ll be happy with a cuppa in bed ... or better still, first dibs on the bedroom for a few nights!