Well I blame Brian and his CDubya (my sister Louise, aka Current Wife).
I hop round to their flat after work to have a Friday cocktail, as Brian so winsomely puts it in his text invite, (oh rather!, as i put it) and there, over goat's cheese, stufffed vine leaves and some oily artichokes, i somehow become taken with the idea of beginnning my very own blog (the vodka and beer might have played a role but, seeing as i could quaff for Ireland, the jury's out on that one-and anyway, it's still only half past 7) and, after a furious cycle home, head full of ideas, i have actually gotten started, which surprises me as much as anyone. Brian and Louise have had me round a few times on a Friday after work and i really enjoy it. One of wonderful things about my sister moving back to Ireland for a year after so many years away is that i get to see her and her kids (Kate, 6 and Jack, 2) all the time. I've also gotten to know Brian properly which has been a pleasure. In our family we all know the background history there, which is a fairly sorry one, so although they're moving back to NY soon (pause for a little cry), it will be on a solid footing, with Brian now a good friend and myself and herself even closer than before.
Not that i've stopped bitching or anything. Just as well i went to the English Market beforehand and got some goodies (see above). 2 kids eating their dinner out of Nutella jars, ony 3 icecubes between the 3 of us, forcing them through polite humiliation to wash out 3 glasses so we wouldn't be drinking V & T's out of mugs, and then Brian ordering a ham 'n' pineapple to go as i left. Shocking stuff. i was frankly glad to get home to the comfort of my own ordered existence where Friday nite dinner at mine has the decency to include a bottle of wine. It may not necessarily include any actual foodstuffs but hey, i'm a single lady in her 40's who lives alone-if i can't spend my love on a cat, why shouldn't i spend it on a bottle of Zinfandel?
It's good to get over to the rellies on a Friday. My professional life is filled with prostate cancer and urinary incontinence so Jack's little joyous face is wonderful to see and keeps me grounded.
Well, it's my virgin blog so i will try not be bloring and will sign off. It's a Bank Holiday Weekend -Whitsun to be precise, Jesus did something important this weekend but, unfortunately for him, this weekend has always been important in my life as when the season in Ballybunion started, and as anyone from North Kerry knows, that's when summer life, as a 15 year old, used to really kick off. It was the weekend you started work. I started as a waitress in the Castle Hotel. i was deemed too young and stupid to be a chambermaid which, considering my chronic shyness and clumsiness, frankly beggars belief. I had the dubious distinction of serving Racy at the height of their fame (if you are under 30, take a wee nap for this bit). The head chef was a not so closet paedophile who once threw a teapot full of hot tea at me as i exited the doors into the dining room, and who was not averse to washing the bluebottle eggs off a steak and throwing it onto the grilll. Everyone knew the potboys would serve their ultimate apprenticeship in his bedroom but he got fired in the end only for serving food to the illegal gamblers in the equally illegal casino in the hotel bar. I earned £30 a week and, most of all, lived in a house across the road from the hotel-cue much drunken fumbling with the hard lads from Dublin who came down every season to work the fairground attactions.Louise was up the road in Allen's chipper (sadly, i found out years later through the hospital where i work, they all died young of cancer almost without exception) and was enduring "I'll have a LARGE breast and curry chips every nite-such is what passed for innuendo in those days.
Well it seems i didn't sign off that fast did i? I warned B & L that i could waffle for ages. Just as well, only about 5 people are going to read this thing-5 you say?-well i do know where they live and i babysit for pretty much all of them-they're not stoopid,knoworra mean?...
Christina
