Day 8: Crosswords, gifts and favourite niece status

 I can’t believe it either — one whole week down! That’s seven consecutive days of... well, doing something each day and resisting the urge to crawl back under the duvet and wait for autumn.

Frankly, I deserve a medal. Or at least a strong cup of tea and a biscuit I don’t have to feel guilty about.

Who knew that stringing together a week of mini-adventures (and slightly damp ones at that) would feel like such a triumph? I mean, I’ve seen art, I’ve swum laps (sort of), and I’ve even faced off with a dress zip in mortal combat. If that’s not living, I don’t know what is.

Here’s to the next 92 days. May they be a little less rainy, a little more sun-kissed, and just the right amount of ridiculous.

Challenge status: Alive and kicking.
Mood: Mildly triumphant with a side of chocolate.

Today my two sisters Geraldine and Jacqueline and I headed up to visit Auntie Peggy. Now Peggy is nothing short of a legend. She’s turning 92 soon, but honestly, she could give most of us a run for our money. She does the Irish Times crossword daily. Meanwhile, I need Google just to get through the quick clues.

As if that wasn’t impressive enough, she had our dinner waiting for us when we arrived — including the most delicious homemade vegetable soup to start. Mary Berry, eat your heart out.

On the drive up, as only siblings can do, we were hotly debating who was bringing the best gift. The Three Wise Men brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Us Three Wise Women?

• Fresh strawberries, courtesy of Geraldine

• A beautiful bouquet, thanks to Jacqueline

• And me? I brought the secret weapon: Tales of Westmeath — History and Folklore from The Schools Collection. Not only was it right up Peggy's alley, but it was written by a man from Raharney — a family she knew well growing up.

When I handed it over, she looked up and said I was "a topper."

So yes, I am officially the favourite niece this week.
Nah nah na nah nah.

Day 7 : From Fashion Goals to Life Lessons

 

Sometimes life gives you a sign to cop on and stop being so shallow.

I’ve been looking forward to the upcoming AIMS Awards next month — that glorious weekend when musical societies from all across Ireland descend upon Killarney for a few days of craic, dancing, and a whole lot of glamour. The highlight, of course, is the Saturday night banquet, where awards like Best Actor, Best Singer, and Best Overall Show are handed out. It’s basically our version of the Tonys, minus Broadway and plus a lot more Guinness.

This year, I had my sights set on wearing a particular dress from my wardrobe. The only snag? It wouldn’t zip. Not even a little. So, I kicked off a campaign of eating less, moving more, and dramatically sighing every time I passed the fridge. And lo and behold, the zip now goes all the way to the top! Does the dress actually fit me yet? That’s debatable. I’ve got two more weeks to reach “fabulous.”

But today, perspective came knocking.

I was doing a volunteer drive for the Irish Cancer Society — something I do a couple of times a month — and today I was taking a lovely lady to and from her hospital appointment. We had a great chat on the way, and I tried to keep things light, knowing it’s a stressful time for her.

At one point, she opened her bag and offered me a bar of chocolate. Training tells us not to accept gifts or tokens — it’s a free service, after all. I started to decline and jokingly mentioned I was trying to fit into a dress. She paused and said, quietly, that she had spent a good part of her life worrying about her weight and denying herself little treats. Now, she said, she would give anything to put up a few pounds.

It hit me like a bucket of cold water. A reality check straight to the soul.

We waste so much energy stressing about the shallow stuff, when really, life is about enjoying the ride while we can.

So yes, I gratefully accepted the chocolate. And feck it — I’ve got another dress that’ll fit if the first one doesn’t.

Day 6: The Art of Being a Proud Aunt

 Today I headed up to the Big Smoke, not just on a whim but on a mission. I was going to the Royal Hibernian Academy of Art for the 195th Anniversary Exhibition—specifically to see my nephew Niall's painting, Hybridity, in the flesh. Or at least, on a wall. (Don’t worry, I haven’t a clue what it means either.)

We were bursting with pride when we heard his piece had been selected from thousands for inclusion in the exhibition. And then, just the day before the opening, we found out Niall had been awarded the Award for a Work of Distinction by a Young Artist. You can imagine the family excitement—we were fit to burst.

So today, there I was, standing in front of Hybridity, trying to sneak a selfie without getting caught. 

I even sat on a bench to admire it from a distance. As people filtered past the wall of paintings, I watched them stop at Niall’s piece, studying it and saying wonderfully arty things like:

“...so lifelike…”
“...realistic tattoos…”
“…very talented…”

It brought me right back to when Niall was about four or five. I remember visiting his house and watching him colour in a mosaic—not a children’s one, mind you, but something far more intricate with tiny little spaces. As a teacher, I was amazed by his ability to stay within the lines. But even more impressive was his use of colour—shading from dark to light in a way no one had taught him. It just came naturally.

A few years later, I gave him his first paid commission. Every year I had to paint a poster for my class's Confirmation ceremony—and I was sick of it. So I asked Niall to do it instead. He painted a six-foot-tall Holy Spirit on canvas, and I wheeled it out year after year!

In 2016, I went to his final college exhibition. His theme was: "Is a portrait really a portrait if it’s not of a real person?" Each portrait was an amalgamation of people from his life. I bought one—not for the deep meaning, to be honest, but because I liked the colours. I named him Jake.

Jake has been with me through thick and thin, especially during those long lockdown days, including New Year's Eve.

And now, after seeing that all-important red dot beside Niall's painting

—proof that someone actually paid good money for his work—I’m even more delighted that I have Jake. 

Maybe I’ve unknowingly become an art collector… or even an art dealer

Day 5: Trimmed with Nostalgia

 As I was driving home from ballet class today (yes, you read that right—silver swan incoming), I passed through Trim. Nothing unusual there. But, thanks to this 100 Days of Summer challenge (and the return of Irish sunshine), I decided to actually stop the car and go for a walk.

Trim was a regular haunt when we were kids—Dad would bring us out for a run around the castle and then bribe us into good behavior with ice cream from The Bon Bon. Simpler times. Stickier fingers.

Now, Trim Castle is one of the most famous in Ireland—not just because it’s the largest Norman castle still standing, but because it was the setting for the Oscar-winning film Braveheart. Apparently, Mel Gibson is a bigger draw than Sir Hugh de Lacy. No offence, Hugh.

I decided not to go into the castle this time (how rebellious), but to admire it from a new angle: the Riverbank Walk on the opposite side of the Boyne. And boy, was I glad I did.

From across the river, the castle looks even more impressive—like it’s about to star in another movie. I wandered up to the Yellow Tower, which, according to local legend (and possibly someone with sunglasses), glows gold at sunset. Today it looked more "steely grey with a hint of impending rain," but I’ll take their word for it.

Further along was Sheep’s Gate—the last remaining of five medieval gates into Trim. I assume it was for getting sheep into the market, but I’m no medieval logistics expert. Still, pretty cool.

The path eventually led to Newtown. Built in the 13th century, the name now feels like a cheeky joke. But walking those ancient paths, I couldn’t help but feel a bit awed. People have been wandering these same routes for hundreds of years—though probably with fewer selfies.

The monastery ruins were stunning, but my personal highlight was the Tomb of the Jealous Lord and Lady. Why were they jealous? Who knows. Maybe he kept stealing her medieval snacks. The real gem is the wart-removal legend: Apparently, if you pricked a wart with a pin and left it on the tomb, the wart would vanish as the pin rusted. BUT—under no circumstances were you to use someone else’s pin, or you’d inherit their wart. Personally, I think using a rusty pin for anything should come with a warning label, wart or no wart.

By the time I made it back to my car—legs wobbly from pliés and a medieval pilgrimage—I felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. This is exactly why I started this challenge. Normally, I would’ve driven straight through Trim. But today, I saw it properly. Like a tourist. Like a kid again.

It’s funny how easily we take for granted the beauty on our doorstep.

Watch this space. Day 5 done. Only 95 to go

Day 4: All going swimmingly...NOT!

 

Rain. Again. At this point, I’m starting to suspect the weather gods didn’t get the memo about summer.

With zero chance of outdoor frolicking, I turned to my rainy-day fallback: the pool at Mullingar Park Hotel (yes, I’m a member, and yes, I do occasionally use the membership).

There was a time—cue dramatic music—when I could swim 80 lengths like it was nothing. Those were the days! These days? Not quite the same story.

Last December, in a burst of optimistic delusion, I declared I’d swim 60 lengths regularly to honour turning 60. Well… let’s just say I’ve probably swum a total of 60 lengths this year. Ambition: 10/10. Execution: room for improvement.

But today, back to the pool I went. I flailed, I floated, I may have swallowed half of lane three, but I managed 20 lengths. A humble restart.

At this rate—and if this rain keeps up—I’ll hit my goal by Thursday. Maybe.

Every cloud has a soggy silver lining, right?

Day 3: When life gives you rainy Mondays,,,knit!

 

Let me set the scene: it’s Monday. It’s raining. And I’ve just begun my 100 Days of Summer Challenge, where I’ve committed (perhaps foolishly) to doing something exciting every single day of summer.

Now, when I envisioned “exciting,” I was thinking: ziplining, salsa dancing, chasing sunsets, maybe befriending a goat on a mountain hike. You know—vibes.

Instead, today greeted me with grey skies, soggy slippers, and the cruel reminder that there's a reason nobody likes Mondays.

So, what did I do? I faced the music. And by “music,” I mean the hum of the washing machine, the hiss of the iron, and the romantic swish of a mop. Household chores: the unsung heroes of rainy day survival.

But alas, adventure must prevail!

So I turned to my trusty knitting needles. Yes, I know what you’re thinking:

“Knitting? Exciting?”

But have you ever dropped a stitch and tried to fix it without crying? That’s adrenaline, baby.

I grabbed a ball of wool (a mysterious shade I’ll call ‘Soggy Sunrise”), and I started stitching my way into greatness. Or at least into...something.

What will it become? A scarf? A sock? A willy warmer?

Who knows.

All I can say is: watch this space. Because this summer, even Mondays and rain can't dull my sparkle—or my stitches.

100 Days of summer

 

I love an auld challenge to push me out of my comfort zone. This one I am particularly looking forward to!

It is, wait for it,,, 100 Days of summer.

For 100 days I post a picture, or in my case, I love to have a little story around it.

Now to be clear, its not a case of me saying

"Oh look at me, I have an exciting life!"

Rather it will make me get off my ar*e and get out and do things.

I waver between two states

a) Going hell for leather and doing everything

b) Sitting on my couch, scrolling aimlessly and doing nothing.

So hopefully this will keep me in check, for 100 days at least.

I counted back from the 31st of August and today is Day 1. Of course it would have to be raining, the first time in three weeks. As long as it doesn't last 'til the end of August I'll be fine!

All's Fair

 Another beautiful day, which I felt would be wasted if I stayed at home. I had a quick google to see if there was anything on close by , and I found that Dunderry Fair was only 30 minutes away. So off I set.

I was a bit concerned when I arrived at the car park and I was directed in through a farmyard. There were no signs but at least some of the routes were blocked off. I was very relieved to arrive at a field full of cars.

I parked up and made my way out through the field to the road, picking my way through the cowpats!

Obviously lots of people had the same idea as me. I wandered through the crowds, looking at farm animals

Fierce looking roosters

notice the way I didn't say "cocks"!

and I even watched a dog beauty pageant! This was my favourite

I plonked my ass on a bale of hay for a rest and to listen to the music. There was a couple beside me. We got chatting and I discovered that the husband was mad for dancing but the wife had had a recent knee replacement and couldn't dance. I don't know how it happened but I ended up entering the jiving competition with him, with his wife's blessing!

Now given that we had never danced together before, we didn't do too badly at all. We weren't in the first few couples to be eliminated. But we got nowhere near the finalists obvs.

Not only did we not win, but I lost an earring with all the turning and spinning..

Though come to think of it I might have lost that earlier when I went on the Twister hurdy--gurdy.

Much more likely!

Lovely fun day. Definitely better than staying at home!

Darkness into Light

 I've just noticed that my last post was about getting up at the crack of dawn and here I am getting up at 3.15am, way before dawn! I'd like to clarify that I am NOT a morning person at the best of times, but just sometimes I make the sacrifice.

Today's reason was the annual Darkness into Light in remembrance of all those who have lost their lives to suicide and also to raise funds for Pieta House who support people who are in danger of suicide or self-harm.

I was delighted to find out this week that there was a walk arranged in the local area and I wouldn't have to get up even earlier to head into Mullingar to take part.

I dragged myself out of the bed and headed up to Rathwire church car park to begin. I honestly didn't know how many people would be there and was hoping I wouldn't be the only one.

Of course I wasn't. Good old community spirit.

Off we set out the village and along the canal. I've been doing walks along the canal for years and today I discovered a new one. Just goes to show there's always something new to discover even in familiar places.

anyway, walk was fabulous at that hour. We were "blessed with the weather!" Having the chats as we went along meant that we didn't feel either the time or the distance.

Before we knew it, we were finished and it was time to go home...5.30am. I was planning on what to do with these extra few hours.

Would I catch up on my ironing?

Would I wash the kitchen floor?

Would I plan my meals for the week?

Nah! I went back to bed and slept until noon!