It seems everyone is having a shot at the Áras, but Emma’s preoccupied with the sniffles
STRAIGHT up, I’m wondering, should I just bite the bullet and seek a nomination to run for president? So many other randomers are throwing their hats in the ring, I’m thinking, what have I got to lose? After all, my dignity went south way back. It’s been very liberating!
The field is looking pretty limited at the moment, from where I’m sitting. I’m in the minority but personally I’d never heard of Jim Gavin until recently, and Catherine and Heather, as highly qualified as they are, just aren’t doing it for me. Call me mad but I thought Bertie would have been a good choice; honestly I can’t precisely recall what he did to blot his copy book….oh wait? What’s that? Oh, the crash? Oh that was it yes, of course!
No words for McGregor, Michael Flatley was possibly a step too far, and Joanna Donnelly? Well, fair play to her for sticking her head above the parapet. I can’t remember how I voted in the Nice referendum either! I feel that I could be the voice for middle-aged women, specifically appealing to the crankier ones who spend 89% of their time giving out about making dinner and the rest of the time bemoaning the fact that we can’t sleep. I reckon I’d survive the intense scrutiny that goes with putting yourself forward too. There are no skeletons in my closet, except for maybe a few speeding tickets. Aren’t I glad now I didn’t bother with those dodgy pyramid schemes when so many others were making a fortune from them in the early noughties!
Back to my campaign: for starters I’d save the taxpayer an absolute fortune as I don’t really like to go out unless I absolutely have to. I’d be fine with just attending the All-Irelands and the odd concert or garden party or two, and now that we’ve had our house painted, joy of joys, I’d be as happy to stay put at home, rather than up sticks and move to the Áras. So far, so thrifty. I know Michael D’s Bernese Mountain dog Misneach was a big hit with the public and I do have Billy the Retriever, although he most definitely couldn’t be relied on to behave in a photo call. Let’s mull it over for another week!
Honestly, what’s occupying more of my brain right now is protein and worrying if I’m eating enough of it. It’s like all of a sudden there’s an obsession with protein, and my social media is flooded with people spending their life savings on eggs and ricotta, and telling me I need to do the same. Do I really? I’m old enough to remember a time when no one even drank water, when lugging around big bottles with us every time we left the house in case we expired due to lack of hydration, just wasn’t on our radar and we were grand. Well, mainly grand.
It's nothing but protein for Emma...with a little hot whiskey thrown in for that back-to-school lurgy.
Of course I also remember when you could smoke indoors, which definitely wasn’t a good thing. Now, I’m totally bamboozled by all this chatter about protein and the suggestion that I should gleefully eat three eggs for my breakfast. Sod it anyway, I’m staying old school and sticking with the porridge…with maybe a dollop of cottage cheese on top.
Hands up whose household has already been hit by the very predictable back-to-school lurgy? Yes, us too. It blows my mind how we can spend a summer soaking up vitamin D, banking good sleep, good food, fresh air, and exercise, and after just a few weeks back in the classroom those gremlin germs are already doing their worst and taking us down. I can’t help but take it personally. What are we doing wrong? Are we not eating enough protein? Is that it?
More joyful to me right now is the sight of fields of round bales all over the countryside. Wordsworth wrote about fluttering daffodils but in my humble opinion, these bales of beauty are more majestic. I’m full of regret now for not going to the National Ploughing. What with the household being under the weather, the weather being less than ideal, and the fact that we didn’t have a pair of wellington boots between us, we said we’d skip it until next year. Which is what we said last year. No, definitely 2026 will be the year. Would they have it in West Cork I wonder? Be far handier. I’ll sort it if I’m made president.
Finally, I’m still enjoying The Traitors although I feel I was a bit harsh last week celebrating the exit of Eamon, who was in fact the most interesting thing about the show. Despite a busy week I did manage to squeeze in The Girlfriend on Prime starring Robin Wright. It’s watchable enough and if you’re looking for something until The House of Guinness starts on Netflix, you could do worse. Although you’d be better off going to bed really now that I think of it.
Yes, early to bed and keep those sniffles at bay. Maybe have a little hot whiskey too for medicinal purposes, or just to keep you warm because under no circumstances should you turn the heating on: apparently energy prices are going up again.
Just great.
