Emma savours the atmosphere in Croke Park, fashion choices notwithstanding, but really scores while people-watching at the buffet!
WE were going along just grand this week until there was a mention of the Rose of Tralee, which brought on an instant case of the Glenroes. Then the WhatsApp messages started to ping, with ‘helpful’ reminders about when the various after-school activities would be resuming and just like Celine Dion crooned: it’s all coming back to me now. For a minute I felt a little like throwing up, but sure it will be grand when we’re back in the swing of things. It always is. Isn’t it? More or less?
Anyway, speaking of school, here’s a mini lecture incoming so skip on if you’re not in the mood. While I’m all for supporting businesses, the more local the better, I think we need to be smart and sustainable when it comes to back-to-school shopping. Personally I don’t think there’s any need at all to get a ‘new’ everything for September.
Spare a thought for last year’s pencil case which has had an entire two months off and is only dying to get back to business, same for the topper and eraser which have more to give, the 12 million pencils and pens your child most likely has, ditto the lunchbox and water bottle. Really and truly, unless something is broken, give it another chance to play a starring role in the school year. Besides you’ll need all your money for the after-school activities.
Lecture over, and now onto my adventures in Croke Park at the All-Ireland camogie final. Straight up, I have to confess my main motivation for going was to get out of making the dinner. I know dinners are a fact of life, just like paying taxes, but I just needed a day off. If going to Croke Park seemed elaborate to dodge boiling the spuds, it probably was, but I’ve tried everything else and it didn’t work. ‘Coming down’ with something, falling down, hiding, but still people seek me out and before they ask what’s wrong they’ll ask: what’s for dinner?
That’s why I had us on the road last Sunday morning (with a packed lunch of course – sure we weren’t having any dinner!) nice and early and full of giddiness and glee. I hadn’t been in Croke Park for nearly 30 years so we were in our seats in the lower Cusack good and early to lap up the impressive surrounds. There was a fantastic atmosphere in the stadium and I was struck by a real sense of a ‘camogie community’. I even spotted a baby that couldn’t have been more than a few months old decked out in a jersey! That’s commitment (especially when all I could muster was a white tshirt with jeans, bad call, more of that to come).
But what really blew me away were the camogie ‘moms’, including coaches, aunties, grannies etc., decked out mainly in their Birks and backpacks, leading in group after group of girls who were there to see their idols play. All these women were missing was their superhero capes as they dished out sandwiches, flags, intelligent match commentary and more, before loading them all back on buses and home safely again.
Respect!
I had checked the weather forecast and it most definitely didn’t say ‘scorching’ but scorching is what it most certainly was in Dublin last Sunday afternoon, with the sun beating down full blast on us. Regular readers will know I do not like intense sun and I mentioned I was wearing jeans, right? I was going to ask one of the camogie moms if they had spare shorts in their backpacks or a cap, and I bet they had too, but instead I had to fashion a makeshift hat with the match programme and pray that they TV cameras didn’t land on me. They didn’t. Anyway, despite the fact that I nearly died from the heat, and it wasn’t to be for the ever-impressive Rebels, for me and mine, it was still a great day out.
We said we’d make an overnighter of it, and we stayed in a random family-friendly spot where I was reminded of something I find absolutely fascinating: the hotel breakfast buffet. It’s as much of a spectator sport as camogie, seeing how people behave when they’re faced with multiple options along with lengthy queues for the toaster that never really toasts the bread at all. I started out nice and chilled out with some fruit and yoghurt which would have been just perfect if I left it at that. But I couldn’t resist the urge to take another little stroll up which is when I spotted the cold meats and cheeses in the contintental corner – don’t mind if I do! And I felt it would be reckless not to have at least some sort of a stab at the Irish breakfast, for the road, just a sausage mind you, all washed down by some class of a smoothie. As I looked around the restaurant last Monday morning the other guests look as delirious as myself! To top it all off, some of them were feverishly trying to sneak stuff out in their napkins, leaving a trail of baked beans behind them. Gas! (I only had mild heartburn myself).
It was like feeding time at the zoo and then we headed off to the actual zoo (how about you?) which is always a brilliant way to pass a few hours. This time the hippo won our hearts along with a baby orangutan who put on quite the display for us. We hadn’t been in a few years and I was so impressed with facilities. There was a toilet block and picnic area at almost every turn. We just had a few of the pastries from the breakfast buffet (what? Everyone else was doing it!) and to be honest, they hadn’t travelled that well but given that I felt like a hardened criminal from my croissant heist, they were going to be eaten even if it killed me . Besides you’re banned from feeding the animals.
And yes of course I’m going to watch the Rose of Tralee. What better way to bookend the summer!
