WOMAN ON THE VERGE: Every day is an education

There’s nostalgia for the good old days in Emma’s household, where board games, sweeping the leaves, and gentle telly is considered the balm to soothe all ills.

NEWSFLASH: I am nearly in my fifth decade in this world and I’ve only just realised that the phrase is ‘fount of knowledge’ and not ‘fountain of knowledge’ as I’ve always thought (and said, out loud, to many people).

I’ve Claire Byrne to thank for my moment of enlightenment. I was driving along the other morning with Claire, who I’d have always referred to as the fountain of knowledge on everything, on in the background, when in some interview or other she referred to ‘fount,’ and bam, I had my epiphany. It’s gas how you can pick something up incorrectly and run with it and sorry now like, but why didn’t anyone correct me?

There’s worse to come. Until a few years ago, I used to say coldface instead of coalface, and I still get them mixed up. I know, I’m mortified for me too. Then there are certain spellings that will always catch me out. The double ‘t’ in Garrettstown for example, the ‘h’ in Castletownshend, and the ‘i’ in Garinish were all a wonder to me until recent years. Meanwhile, rhythm and fuchsia will always trip me up, but in my defence I know it’s espresso at least, and not expresso. Thank goodness my days of spelling tests are over and the spellcheck is there to save the day; if only it could catch my typos too.

Speaking of tests and homework, is there anything more levelling than struggling a bit with your kids’ homework?

I love Gaeilge and am still in my comfort zone with that subject (no tuiseal ginideach yet), but it’s the sums that threaten to show me up, and we’re still only at third class level. I even had to do a cheeky Google check the other day as I couldn’t get my little brain around something or other. Mortified for me again. What did our parents do in these situations I wonder? Wait for the one who was the fountain of knowledge to come home?

Anyway, Storm Amy wasn’t too fierce around these parts thank goodness. I feel sorry for everyone up West and in the North who must be in dread of storms and the havoc and danger they threaten. I actually know someone who moved from Galway to West Cork simply because they couldn’t handle the thought of another winter of being pummelled and power outages. All I had to tolerate from Amy’s heavy rain was ‘eau de wet dog’, and there are few things worse. That and all the fallen leaves, which is no hardship as brushing leaves is one of my all-time favourite things to do. A bit like shovelling snow in a snowstorm, I know it’s a form of madness to be cleaning up when they’re still falling but the level of satisfaction it brings me is next-level. I’ll rarely resort to a leaf blower, and prefer the hard graft of a yard brush, rake, and wheelbarrow. It’s evidence, if anyone was looking for it, that getting the blood moving, and fresh air is a cure for most ills. The storm was also my reminder to buy a proper waterproof coat which I obviously won’t do because I’m Irish and where’s the fun in that?

I got further proof of how simple is best, when very randomly I found myself playing a boardgame last Saturday at 4pm along with three generations of my family. This is usually peak busy time in the weekend schedule with skin, hair, hurleys and laundry flying, but the stars aligned and our assorted group found ourselves sitting around the kitchen table when a boardgame was produced, for an hour of delicious fun with proper skitting involved. I don’t want to sound smug or anything, but the Waltons had nothing on us! And not a drop of drink was had, just a lovely cup of tea and apple crumble with custard. Speaking of which, who is doing Sober October? Me neither. Sure Dry January will be here soon enough.

Meanwhile, as I suspected, Budget 2026 came and went, and no one on a white horse is coming back to rescue me. Once you make peace with that, life gets a lot easier I think. And even though I skipped lots of the budget analysis and commentary I still watched way too much TV...this week. I always do this when I’ve loads to do. I can’t decide what to do first, and end up doing nothing. So, shrouded in guilt, I watched some of The House of Guinness, and I know I’m in the minority but I didn’t like it. I also watched a few episodes of Wayward with Toni Colette who I love, but I hated this. Like us all, the cost of living crisis might be hitting her too and she may have a few bills to pay? Who knows. I watched around 15 minutes of Monster: The Ed Gein Story and couldn’t stomach it and definitely wouldn’t recommend it as pre-bed time viewing. But I’m loving The Walsh Sisters on RTÉ. It’s not perfect, but it’s perfect Sunday night viewing.What I’m really yearning for though is a nice, innocent, family-friendly show, like a modern-day Waltons. The passing of the fabulous Patricia Routledge (‘the lady of the house speaking’) got me thinking about all those lovely shows we used to watch such as Keeping up Appearances, Darling Buds of May, and All Creatures Great and Small. Why can’t we have more shows like this? In desperation for some family viewing we put on Killinaskully and as bad as it is (and it’s brutal), we all laughed out loud, even if my guffaws were more in disbelief, and sure laughter cures all. Just like brushing the leaves.