Two and a half weeks to go until I cross that little strip of water known variously St George’s Channel and the Irish Sea for my hols in Northern Ireland.
Oh hang on a moment, I need to sort out some photos first. Maybe I can wait.
The plan hatched earlier in the year, which i hope is still live, is to have a family day with Uncle Bill, with as many photos as we can lay our hands on, and have a good session of family stories.
Now I have typed that I realise how unrealistic it is. A day? We’ll barely be entering our stride. I come from a family where talking is almost a competitive sport. Were any of us to declare an intention to kiss the Blarney Stone not only would the PSNI and the Garda probably be mobilised, assistance might be sought from further afield in order to stop this act.
Cagey commented on a completely different subject that she has been playing with audio files. Between now and whenever our Family Day is, I’d like some good recording app so I can get some of those stories down for posterity. Uncle Bill is full of them. He is also the best source for stories about Mother. As children they were very close. That closeness continued all their lives. When I think of them together in her last years when I took her on holiday to Ireland, I can see the pair of them holding hands on the sofa. I wish I had taken a picture of that.
Bill’s daughter-in-law Michele is a mover and shaker in FoodNI. in the spring when the team had a three day gig at Borough Market to mark St Patrick’s Day, she said she’d take me on a food tour this summer. That’s another thing I hope is still live.
Then I should meet up with Speccy, and my friend Jo; there are some things at the Heaney Homeplace I’d like to go to; there’ll be walks with the dog, playing with the cats; shopping with Cousin and Speccy.
Ten days may not be enough.