When your Friday goes Full Horror Mode

 

I was jolted awake at five in the morning by a rustling noise. Half asleep, I told myself it was just Storm Claudia lashing rain against the window. Still, my nerves were jangling, so I switched on the light, pulled on my trusty eye mask, and drifted back into a fragile sleep.

Not for long.

Another sound woke me and I lifted the edge of my mask for a quick peek — just in time to see a mouse disappearing… UNDER THE PILLOW BESIDE ME.

Yes. You read that right.
A mouse.
In. My. Bed.

I let out a scream that could have powered the national grid. If he didn’t die of a heart attack, I certainly nearly did.

Panic mode activated, I grabbed a spare pillow and duvet and relocated to the sitting room. I cocooned myself on the couch, put on Sullivan’s Crossing in an effort to calm my nerves… and then watched in horror as another mouse scurried across by the fireplace.

For a second I genuinely thought I was hallucinating from trauma, but no — this one was real too.

Thankfully, I had mouse traps in the house. I set them up with peanut butter — because if they’re going to the big cheese wheel in the sky, they may as well have a decent last meal.

Then came Nightmare No. 2: the dentist.
A root canal repair.

Let me tell you, the only thing worse than having a root canal done… is having an old one removed and replaced. Two parts, plenty of drilling, and a dentist who told me to “go home and relax.”

Relax?? In a house that has suddenly become the set of Ratatouille 2: The Horror Edition? Absolutely not.

But several hours later, I was home, blissfully pain-free… and two mice down. Small victories.

Please, pray for me tonight.

And I bet you’re now thinking your own Friday wasn’t that bad after all.

A Robin, A Crochet Hook and a Little Bit of Magic

 

I headed into the Mullingar Pewter shop and restaurant today to meet Helena for lunch. On the way in, I got completely sidetracked by their Christmas display — twinkling lights, baubles galore, and, well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

What really caught my eye was a crochet robin kit. 

Now, I haven’t crocheted anything since I made Lil’ Kovid — my loyal little lockdown companion who still has pride of place in my sitting room. 

But as I looked at that kit, I immediately thought of the old superstition that says seeing a robin means a visit from a loved one who’s passed on. Naturally, Mam and Dad popped into my mind.

And then, right on cue, two women from Raharney came out of the restaurant and greeted me. One of them smiled and said, “Oh, I see your mother is inside waiting for you!”

For a split second, I froze — thinking, Well, if she is, she’s got a lot of explaining to do!

The poor woman turned scarlet when she realised her mistake. She’d mixed me up with Helena — an easy enough mix-up, I suppose, because of the blonde hair… though the fact that Helena had her ten-week-old baby with her might have been a bit of a giveaway!

I quickly reassured her that she hadn’t upset me in the least. In fact, I told her about the robin kit and how I felt her comment was actually a sign — a little nudge from Mam letting me know she was near.

After lunch, as I passed back through the shop, there was no question about it. That robin kit was coming home with me. And when it’s finished, it’ll have pride of place on my Christmas tree — a small, woolly reminder that our loved ones never really leave us.

Thank you Mr President .

 

Tonight I’m raising my cuppa tea in honour of a true gentleman and a scholar — our outgoing President, Michael D. Higgins. It’s hard to believe his fourteen years in office have come to an end. He has served our country with such grace, intelligence, and a twinkle in his eye that he’ll be an impossible act to follow.

The role of President isn’t a political one — it’s about representing who we are as a nation. And Michael D did that beautifully. Whether quoting poetry, championing the arts, or standing up for equality, he embodied compassion and dignity. Yet he never lost that down-to-earth Irishness we all loved. Who else could you imagine queuing at the ATM like the rest of us, or buying ice creams for everyone on a rare Irish scorcher of a day? (Maybe that’s why he needed the ATM!)

His interviews with Tommy Tiernan were always a joy — two great minds sharing laughter and mutual respect. 

https://www.facebook.com/reel/3830170380617366

And of course, no tribute to Michael D would be complete without mentioning his beloved Bernese Mountain Dogs. They adored him and followed him everywhere — loyal, gentle giants mirroring their master’s nature. 

Seeing the footage tonight of Bernese dogs (and their owners) lined up outside Áras an Uachtaráin to wave him and Sabina off was genuinely moving.

https://www.facebook.com/reel/847399175126088

So here’s to you, Michael D — for your wisdom, kindness, poetry, and heart. You’ve reminded us all what leadership can look like when it’s rooted in humanity.

Go raibh míle maith agat — and may your retirement be as warm and wonderful as the man himself.

a Right K-aper at The K Club.

 

I know I said I was going to celebrate my 60th birthday for a year, but even I didn’t think I’d still have a gift voucher to cash in this far down the line! My bestie Genevieve had given me a fabulous voucher for afternoon tea, a facial, and a massage for two at The K Club. When she handed it to me, she said, “Of course you don’t have to bring me… but if you don’t, I’ll be standing outside with my face pressed against the glass watching ye!” Naturally, she was always going to be my partner-in-crime.

Then life got in the way. Because it had to be used midweek, and Genevieve is still working (my heart bleeds for her), finding a suitable date became like solving a Rubik’s cube. Summer came and went, and somehow we never managed to coordinate. Once the school term kicked back in — and with panto rehearsals for the Helix just around the corner — I decided to bite the bullet and book. The nice lady on the phone told me there were only two available dates: November 12th… or next February! (Apparently, the restaurant is closing for renovations.)

I booked November 12th. Job done, or so I thought.

Later that evening Genevieve texted to say there was an appointment on the 5th. I hadn't looked at that date as I had a dentist's appointment, but I decided to change that and go for the upcoming date. Fast forward to the 4th and Genevieve rang to discuss plan of action. She asked was the facial or the afternoon tea first. I was a bit confused and said "You booked it, so which is it?" Silence on the other end. "No, I didn't. You have the voucher with the number that's needed to book. I thought you were doing it." Being friends for decades meant that we didn't blame each other for messing up. Instead we burst into laughter and said "What are we like? Senior moment." We discussed going back to the February date until Genevieve mentioned that the gift card didn't have to be spent on the spa package, it could be used anywhere in the club. Lightbulb moment! "Why don't we still go tomorrow night and use it on food and drink?" Immediate agreement.

So off we went, two happy women embracing spontaneity (and the prospect of prosecco). The restaurant was decked out like a Christmas grotto — twinkling lights, festive sparkle, and carols in the background. I officially waved the white flag and embraced my Christmas spirit.

Who could resist a Christmas tree decorated in teddy bears???

We were midway through a delicious meal (and, ahem, several drinks) when a group of men came in wearing shorts. Now, I know it was a mild night, but shorts in November? Really? Then I did a double take. One of them looked oddly familiar. Suddenly, it hit me — Bundee Aki! The place was full of Irish rugby players, there before their big match against Japan.

We were too shy to ask for a selfie

So not only did we get a five-star meal and drinks on the house (sort of), but we also had unexpected celebrity company.

Honestly, who needs a spa day when you’ve got great food, good wine, and a room full of rugby players?

From Bah Humbug to Boarding Passes

 I’m so fickle! Only a few days ago I was bemoaning the fact that people are racing through life, rushing from one season to the next without stopping to enjoy the here and now. We leapt straight from Hallowe’en to Christmas without even catching a breath.

And yet… here I am, guilty as charged. I’ve pole-vaulted right over Christmas and the New Year thanks to the arrival of my new travel book. 

As I sit here with a steaming cup of tea, I’m already dreaming of adventures ahead — the shores of the Aegean Sea, the beaches of Sicily, the streets of Cardiff, Madrid, Vilnius and Ljubljana. I can almost taste the pasta in a Sardinian trattoria, the strudel in a Viennese café, and the comfort of a pint in a cosy British pub.

Ah well, one can but dream. Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’m off to put the heating on and pretend it’s the Mediterranean breeze I’m feeling.

Damn you, John Lewis

 

At the risk of sounding like Scrooge — or the Grinch, depending on your generation — I just can’t be dealing with all this Christmas cheer that has exploded into our lives over the past 48 hours.

It started innocently enough. My sister texted the family WhatsApp group: “Have you seen this year’s John Lewis Christmas ad yet?” I hadn’t. But of course, peer pressure being what it is, I immediately went to Google it.

Big mistake.

Within minutes, I was bawling — proper ugly crying — at my laptop. John Lewis had done it again. But this one hit differently. It reminded me so much of Mam and Dad. They were beautiful dancers, and that’s where I got my own love of dance from. They’d go dancing every week, gliding across the floor like they were made for it.

When Dad died, Mam said the thing she missed most was dancing with him. Years later, while on holiday in the apartment in Turkey, she put on one of their old CDs. One of their favourite songs came on, and she broke down, saying she’d never dance again. Without even thinking, I grabbed her hand and we started waltzing around the living room floor. I may have been a poor substitute for Dad, but seeing her light up as we twirled around was pure magic.

I’d forgotten that moment until I watched that ad. It’s funny how something as small as a Christmas commercial can bring back such a wave of memory, love, and loss all at once.

So, yes — call me Scrooge if you must. But for now, all I can say is: Bah, humbug… and pass the tissues

Country Cousins

 

Despite it being officially winter, I was up bright and early for a 5k walk — thankfully the morning decided to join me and show off a bit of brightness too! This wasn’t just any ordinary walk, though. It marked the 10-year anniversary for my cousin’s son, Adam Mangan, a much-loved young man who is deeply missed by all who knew him.

It brought me right back to the blog I wrote at the time of his passing,

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/preview/3787687663741365658/434875840279726526

 and to the months that followed, when Janette organised a walk for me as part of my Operation Transformation journey. So of course, when she organised this special memorial walk, I had to return the favour — even if it meant crossing the border. Not a country border, mind you, but the one between Westmeath and Offaly!

When I arrived, there was a huge crowd gathered — family, friends, neighbours — all there to remember Adam and celebrate his life. It was lovely to catch up with cousins I hadn’t seen in ages. 

Then we set off, some running, some walking (you can guess which group I was in!).

Afterwards, as tradition demands, we gathered for a cup of tea and a scone, sharing stories and laughs, remembering old times, and making the usual promise not to leave it so long until we meet again.

We shall see. But today, we walked, we talked, we remembered — and that’s what really matters.

I left with tired legs but a full heart — proof that love, laughter, and remembrance make every step worthwhile

Summer, Spooks and Santa Claus

 Since I’ve retired, I’ve often found myself asking — usually out loud and to no one in particular — “What day is it?” Without the familiar rhythm of a school timetable, the days have a funny way of blending into each other. But this week, my confusion hit a whole new level.

On Tuesday, I was stretched out on a sun lounger, basking in 27 degrees of glorious heat, feeling smug and summery.

 Fast forward to Friday, and I was knee-deep in pumpkins, ghosts, and ghouls, fully embracing Hallowe’en. 

Then this morning, I turned on the TV and was assaulted — yes, assaulted — by a wave of Christmas ads. Christmas! What in the name of all that’s holy happened?

Mary has barely had time to tell Joseph she’s pregnant, yet the supermarkets are already rolling out the mince pies. Have I time-travelled? In the space of five days, I’ve apparently lived through summer, autumn, and winter.

I’m old enough to remember when Christmas officially began only when Larry Gogan played the first festive song on December 1st. That was the signal. Then — and only then — did the madness begin. Now it seems we’re hurtling straight from sunscreen to Santa without even stopping for breath.

Honestly, can we not just slow down? Enjoy the moment we’re in? At this rate, I fully expect to see Easter eggs beside the turkey before the week is out.